Bedtime Stories: Tony & Ziva
by rekkidbraka
Summary: All about Tony and Ziva's relationship: Sexy, spicy, secretive and sometimes smutty. Super-sexy TIVA. No slash. Updated with: "The Other Woman." Tony seeks Ziva in Spain, finding someone else instead. HIATUS FOR NOW BUT RETURNING SOON.
1. Belief

Title: Belief

Author: rekkidbraka

Rating: T

Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.

Category: Romance; Angst

Disclaimer: No infringement intended.

Spoilers: None

Summary: _"Belief is a beautiful armor / But makes for the heaviest sword / Like punching underwater / You never can hit who you're trying for"_ - John Mayer

**-------------------- Belief ---------------------**

For the first couple of years, she only saw him during their working hours together and it had been enough to satisfy her. The hours were long, often 10-12 per day, and spent in exceptionally close contact -- either in the field solving cases or bantering with one another from facing desks just feet apart -- and she cherished them.

What he did during his time away from her wasn't her business, she told herself. Their personal lives were just that -- personal.

Until the day she stopped believing her own justifications for why, when their time together was ended after their workdays had wrapped up, she still wanted to be with him.

-------------------------------------------

Sitting alone at a small streetside café in downtown Washington, Ziva sipped her strong tea and feigned interest in the latest book her father had sent from Tel Aviv, this one a collection of essays by geopolitical scholars on the status of Israel's power position in the Middle East. Truthfully, she was tired of reading these types of tomes but doing so pleased her father and so she dutifully studied them.

"And then there's McQueen saying 'You can keep the car.' That's it. The End."

The voice was unmistakable, so close that Ziva quickly hid her face behind the book. She scanned the café crowd, seeking him out. At a small table right by the street, she saw him. With just the dim light from the nearby street lamp and the small illumination provided by the lighting strung around the café's outside dining area, he nevertheless was as attractive as ever and Ziva found herself staring at him.

Catching herself, she quickly made sure that he could not see her far back in a dimly-lit corner of the patio. From her relatively secure spot, she watched his evening unfold. He ordered an expensive bottle of wine, a small appetizer-type plate, some dessert and coffee as the night grew longer. There was plenty of laughing, leaning in closely to offer private comments or to catch whispered replies, some tender caressing of hands on the table, here and there a brief kiss -- never anything too showy or intimate, but suggestive nevertheless.

When at last he left, she felt like a voyeur, as if she had witnessed something that wasn't for her to see. Much of it she really hadn't wanted to watch. And yet she couldn't turn away. She had to see it for herself, to know the truth of what happened during the hours they weren't together.

Tony had been there at the café. With another woman. On a date.

And now he'd left. With her. Maybe he was only taking her back to her apartment and the night would end with a kiss at the door.

But more likely, the rest of Tony's night was only beginning.

And hers would end soon as it did every night -- in bed, with one of her father's books, alone and feeling hopelessly lonely and invisible.

Particularly so this evening.

-------------------------------------------

Monday morning brought heavy rain, thunderstorms, fierce lightning, high winds and a sky so dark that it was hard to believe the day had just started.

"Rise and shine, Crime Stoppers!" Tony said, cheerily greeting Ziva and McGee with a smile as he strutted into their NCIS work area. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" He stopped by McGee's desk, shook the rain water off his umbrella, snapped it closed and deposited it, along with his gear bag and raincoat, at his own desk. McGee flicked the water from the top of his desk, frowning at Tony.

"Sure, if you're particularly fond of monsoons," Tim remarked, wiping his desk off with a paper towel. Tony straightened his tie, smoothed back his hair and strolled over to McGee's desk once more.

"Ah, Probie... Young, sweet, innocent Probie... When you've had a weekend as amazing as mine was, it's all Glass Half Full. Just because I woke up on the right side of the bed this morning -- heh... well, Saturday and Sunday mornings, too -- and you woke up ALONE again, McKilljoy, doesn't mean that I should have to ruin MY good mood because YOU'RE such a lame loser that you can't..."

"ENOUGH!" Ziva shouted, so loud that all the NCIS agents in the main room -- not just Tim and Tony -- quieted down, stunned by her sudden outburst. "Perhaps we do not want to HEAR about which SIDE OF THE BED YOU WOKE UP ON, TONY, or any more about your AMAZING WEEKEND!" Slamming both her hands down on her desk, Ziva stood, shot Tony a fierce look and hurriedly exited the room. Tim and Tony watched her go, both shocked. Tony crossed his arms, knitting his eyebrows as he stared into the distance.

"Wow..." Tim said, his eyes widening. "THAT was brutal."

"Speaking of sides of the bed, looks like Ziva DEFINITELY woke up on the wrong one today," Tony said, clenching his jaw. "What the hell's HER problem?"

With that, he briskly straightened his suit jacket, sat down at his desk and began working.

-------------------------------------------

"Where's Ziva?" Gibbs asked gruffly, quickly walking past Tony and Tim, taking a seat at his own desk.

Tim looked to Tony for help answering but Tony continued staring at his computer, acting as if he were absorbed in whatever work he was doing.

"Ummm... She called in sick today, Boss," Tim offered, his face reddening at having lied to Gibbs. Again, he glanced in Tony's direction. Tony ignored him. Gibbs took a sip of coffee, staring intently at Tim.

"Sick, huh? Never heard from her myself. Doesn't sound like Ziva to me."

"Well, uh, she called me, Boss, and, um, asked me to let you know. She was really sorry. Said she'll be back tomorrow for sure. Just a... um... a 24-hour thing."

"A 24-hour thing," Gibbs repeated. "Lotta that goin' around, usually on Mondays, McGee." Tim smiled.

"Sure, Boss, I guess it can, um, happen to anyone."

"Guess so. But not Ziva." Tim looked flummoxed.

"Uhhh... How's that, Boss?"

"Cause I just ran into her at the coffee shop. Looked fine to me."

"Gee... That's, um, that's great news, then. Guess she's coming into work after all, huh?"

"Yep. Ziva, you sick?" Tim did a double-take, then turned to see Ziva behind him, moving towards her desk.

"Of some things, yes." She shot Tony a snide glance, which he returned with a confused, questioning look, and sat down, pursing her lips as she started tapping at her keyboard.

From his desk, while pretending to read the contents of a folder, Tony snuck a peek across at Ziva. She was purposely making sure not to look his way and he didn't understand why she was giving him the cold shoulder -- or what had prompted her outburst towards him earlier. Friday afternoon, they'd been teasing each other about who would get top billing if they were ever to star together in an open casting call James Bond film. Ziva said of course she'd be named first because she could kill Tony so, really, wasn't it a moot point? Tony had to agree.

"24-hour thing, eh, McGee?" Gibbs' blue eyes fixed on McGee as the young agent grimaced, started to say something by way of explanation, thought better of it and turned back to his computer, hurriedly getting back to his work. Gibbs chuckled softly, smiling, and checked his phone messages.

And the rest of the day was spent in total silence.

-------------------------------------------

That evening, having taken a long, hot shower after forcing herself to endure a six-mile run in the pouring rain after work, Ziva finished her small supper and headed to bed early. She had no other plans, as usual, so why not catch up on some much-needed sleep? Having pored over a chapter in the book from her father, Ziva began to nod off, the rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning helping relax her. She was nearly asleep when there was a knock at her door. Turning over, she snuggled deeper under her covers, wanting to not answer. But as the knocking persisted, she felt compelled and arose from her warm bed.

Padding softly down through her living room, she reached the door, slowly opening it. Tony stood outside in the hallway.

For what seemed like an eternity, neither spoke -- the pair only stared at one another, Tony's green eyes meeting Ziva's brown gaze with a steady, steely glare. Ziva swallowed hard, searching for whatever words would come.

"Tony..." she managed. "I did not know you were coming by. You should have called."

Tony's eyes searched the hard expression on Ziva's face.

"I want to talk to you, Ziva," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"This is not a good time," she replied sharply. "I am ... busy with something at the moment. For work. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow or..."

"Why are you doing this?" Tony asked huskily. "Why are you mad at me all of a sudden? What did I do? Just tell me."

Ziva straightened her shoulders and back defensively.

"You have done nothing, Tony," she snapped. "I am simply tired and have work to finish, that is all."

"No," Tony said quietly. "You're avoiding me. Why, Ziva?"

"Listen, Tony..."

Tony, having heard enough, now stepped forward into the doorframe. Ziva was momentarily taken by surprise as Tony grabbed her arm, firmly but not harshly, and pulled her close to him.

"DAMMIT, Ziva, TALK to me!"

Nothing was said and Tony was left staring, blankly, at the door that was slammed in his face after Ziva pushed him away.

-------------------------------------------

Lying stretched out in his bed, Tony absentmindedly scratched at his chest hair. He couldn't stop thinking of Ziva and everything that had happened.

He wasn't sure what was going on with Ziva, why she was so upset or why she'd been so angry with him earlier that day. All he knew was that his best friend was hurting, suffering through something intensely personal, and it was killing him to see her like this.

Maybe something had happened back home in Tel Aviv. Or she'd argued with her father; their relationship, as he understood it, was difficult even in the best of times. Tony's body tensed as the thought he secretly dreaded -- that Ziva was trying to get over some sort of failed romance with a man there in D.C. or that she was involved with that man, that they'd maybe just had a big blowout over the past weekend -- entered his mind. He tried to force the idea out of his head, telling himself that wasn't it, but he couldn't let it go.

Tony thought about his own weekend the and how he'd spent it -- alone, watching his favorite movies in his apartment, wanting to call Ziva and invite her over for whatever reason he could find: pizza, some movie she hadn't seen that he could tease her about - saying she _needed_ to check it out in order to get more in touch with American culture, "Tapout," anything to see her. But he put the phone down as soon as he'd pick it up, afraid to make the call. He wanted more from their relationship -- he had for a long time. The question was, did she feel the same way?

He thought, briefly, about the woman he'd gone to the café with Friday evening. He'd felt compelled to put on the usual DiNozzo act for her, getting the usual response -- she'd wanted him to spend the night, tried to get him to come inside her place for a drink (at least). He'd begged off, saying it had been a really long day at work and he was just absolutely wiped out. Maybe he'd take a raincheck - wink, wink. She seemed okay with that but he knew he'd never see or call her again. There was nothing there for him, no feelings at all, despite how he'd tried to force himself into being attracted to her with all the kissing and touching at the restaurant.

The act was getting old and he was ready for something real, something that would last. Tony had never thought he'd want a family -- a wife, children, a house, a lawn to mow, Little League games to coach, Saturday errands to run, church services -- maybe Temple or Sunday Mass, whichever they'd decide on -- to help dress the kids for, birthday parties and sleepovers to plan...

The only woman he'd been thinking of that Friday night -- and all weekend long, not to mention every minute of every day -- was Ziva. And she hadn't been there Friday. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. He'd prayed for Monday to come so he could see her again.

Now this was the result.

-------------------------------------------

Unless it was about work, Tony and Ziva didn't speak for the remainder of the week and when they had to talk, their exchanges were uncharacteristically brief, clipped and impersonal -- as if they were almost total strangers. Tim noticed their mutual coldness towards one another and simply kept quiet, tapping away at his computer or finding reasons to visit Abby's lab. Gibbs went on about his days as usual, barking out orders to everyone; his main interest was in solving cases, not helping his team sort out their personal issues.

Occasionally, Tony made it a point to act as if he were working intently on something while Ziva spoke, in Hebrew, on the phone to someone in hushed tones. He had no idea what she was saying, aside from the "Shalom" greeting, but if she was talking to someone who had somehow come between them and ruined their friendship, at least for the time being, he was interested.

And jealous.

-------------------------------------------

That Friday night, Ziva didn't make the short walk to the café. Instead, she holed up in her apartment, finishing the book sent by her father. Sighing as she snapped the cover closed, she knew another would soon arrive. It was a dull, predictable cycle. But she tried to remember that her father meant it as a show of love.

Lying back on her couch, she stared at the ceiling, thinking of Tony. She wondered why she bothered; certainly, he was out again with another woman -- most likely not the girl from the week before -- and she wasn't on his mind. He was focused on the woman he'd be with tonight, how he'd entice her into bed, then how he'd end things before she pressed him for any sort of commitment.

The knock at the door broke the silence. Gathering herself, she took a deep breath before answering.

Tony stood, leaning against the doorframe, He'd changed out of the expensive suit he'd worn that day at work, opting for a form-fitting, apple green button-down shirt that was open at the chest, a thick chocolate brown belt with a silver buckle and a pair of well-worn, perfectly broken-in Levi's that hugged his hips and strong thighs in just the right places -- snug, but not too tight. A pair of expensive Italian leather boots finished the haute casual look.

Ziva didn't realize she was staring until Tony said "You ready to go?"

Her dark eyes searched his as she tried to understand what was happening.

"Go? Go where? Tony... what...?"

"Out," he said, reaching out a hand to push back her long black hair. He caressed her cheek. "With me. Tonight. Ziva...," Tony breathed, his words a whisper, "... please. Please... Be with me."

Without a word, she took his hand and led him into her apartment, over to the couch. Tony reclined, stretching out his legs before him as he scratched his chest, while Ziva silently left the room to change into a dress for the evening. As she reached the hallway, just before she would be out of sight, she turned to glance over her shoulder at Tony. His green eyes were fixed on her, his handsome form completely relaxed as he lay back against the sofa cushions, continuing to gently scratch at his chest hair out of mindless habit. Ziva noticed, however, that he quickly shifted his hips and stretched his legs some more, working through some sort of sudden discomfort, as she faded from his view and made her way to her bedroom.

-------------------------------------------

She'd thought the café was their destination but found herself proven wrong when Tony ushered her into his vintage Mustang and started up the engine. Everything was happening so fast. Just an hour and a half ago, she'd made sure to leave before he did so that she wouldn't have to look at him or speak to him in the NCIS main room. And now they were headed off on a date... somewhere.

Ziva started to ask Tony where they were going but stopped herself. For once, she decided to allow herself the thrill of a surprise.

-------------------------------------------

It was early Saturday morning -- almost two o'clock -- when they arrived back at Ziva's apartment. The night had been perfect, spent at an intimate French restaurant just outside of D.C. It was a charming place, dressy without a forced attitude, and Tony had spared no expense to make the evening memorable. Anyplace would have been fine with her -- she enjoyed keeping things simple -- but she was deeply touched by Tony's attention to detail and attempt at impressing her with a more elegant night out than she'd have imagined from him.

At the door, they stood nervously. Neither knew what to expect next.

"I had a wonderful time tonight, Tony," Ziva said softly, taking in every detail of his handsome face with her brown eyes. "I was not expecting... all of this. Thank you."

Tony's gaze met hers. Ziva's olive skin and dark features had captivated him since he first saw her but tonight he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her; it had been a struggle to even drive to the restaurant without touching her. He wanted to know the feel of her skin on his and being so close now, he couldn't stop himself from making intimate physical contact.

Slowly, Tony's hand reached out. Ziva caught her breath as he took her by the arm, pulling her to him. As Tony fitted her body against his, he drew her into a kiss. It started tentatively but soon turned passionate and deep. He gripped her waist firmly, pressing Ziva's body tightly into his. She gasped as they broke the kiss, sensing Tony's desire for her.

Overwhelmed by a mix of attraction and frank confusion at Tony's sudden actions, Ziva tried, but couldn't keep, the tears from welling up in her eyes. She was ashamed for crying in front of Tony, embarrassed by her emotions. Tony relaxed his hold on Ziva's waist, wrapping her in a warm hug. Ziva broke down, weeping into his chest, as he held her against him, tenderly rocking her as he whispered in her ear that it was okay, everything was okay...

-------------------------------------------

When she was finally asleep, Tony lifted Ziva into his arms, carried her to her bedroom and gently tucked her into bed. He'd held her as she sobbed for nearly an hour, crying herself into a fitful slumber, and he was worried. Everything had seemed so perfect all night. What had suddenly gone so wrong?

Once he was sure Ziva was comfortable, he went back into the living room and lay down on the couch, closing his eyes.

It took every ounce of Tony's willpower not to return to Ziva's bedroom. He longed to simply hold her, breathe in the scent of her skin until dawn came.

He wondered when it would happen. Or if it ever would.


	2. Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

Title: Slow Dancing In A Burning Room  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Hurt/Comfort  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"I was the one you always dreamed of / You were the one I tried to draw / How dare you say it's nothing to me / Baby, you're the only light I ever saw"_ - John Mayer

**-------------------- Slow Dancing In A Burning Room ---------------------**

On Monday, Ziva anxiously awaited Tony's arrival in the NCIS main room. At her desk since 0500 as she was every morning, she was particularly awake and alert, eager to see him come through the elevator doors. She'd spent more time than usual picking out her clothing for work, something she'd always considered foolish when women spoke of it. But now she understood; she wanted Tony's full attention that day.

Seven o'clock. Her eyes fixed on the polished steel elevator doors.

At 7:01, the doors opened. Ziva inhaled deeply, nervously. She attempted to look as casual as possible.

A man rounded the corner into the work area. Ziva smiled brightly.

"Morning, Ziva," McGee said with a grin, toasting her with his cup of coffee. "Have a nice weekend?"

Ziva's smile faded.

"Oh... yes. Good morning, McGee. My weekend was ... it went well. And yours?" The disappointment in her voice was evident.

McGee looked confused.

"Pretty good. Had a book signing at a little shop in Virginia. Kind of out in the country. Nice drive, though." He sat down at his desk, wondering what had changed Ziva's mood so quickly.

She checked the time. 7:05.

Sighing, she looked again towards the elevators.

Still no Tony.

-------------------------------------------

By 9 a.m., Gibbs was furious at Tony's lateness and Ziva was growing worried. Maybe something had happened to Tony. Maybe that was why she hadn't heard from him all weekend. Perhaps he was sick. He never got to work as early as she did but was rarely, if ever, this late.

Tim, looking to avoid the inevitable explosion when Tony arrived and Gibbs confronted him, had hurried off to the relative safety of Abby's lab. But Ziva needed to know when -- or if -- Tony would show up.

Around 9:30, the elevator doors opened and Tony exited. Depositing his gear bag at his desk without saying a word to Ziva or looking at her, he sat down and immediately began working, doing his best to keep from making eye contact with her. Fortunately, Gibbs was in a meeting with Vance for the next two hours. Ziva watched Tony as he continued ignoring her. Finally, she got up and casually strolled across to his desk.

"Is everything OK, Tony? We were concerned. Gibbs is furious."

"Car trouble," Tony said brusquely without looking up from his computer. "Fixed now. I'll let Gibbs know. Thanks."

Ziva stood uncertainly by Tony's desk, watching him. He nervously focused on the computer screen.

"Do you have a minute? There's something we need to discuss."

-------------------------------------------

In the elevator, Tony kept his eyes focused on the doors but Ziva kept hers fixed on him.

"I didn't want to wake you up. So I just left."

"You did not call me the rest of the weekend, Tony. Why?"

"Look, Ziva, I was busy, OK? Believe it or not, I have stuff to do just like anyone else. Had to go to the grocery store, pick up the dry cleaning, do a little dusting..."

"I see. Once Friday was over, it truly was over."

"You're making a big deal out of nothing."

"So our date Friday was nothing."

"OK, anything I say is gonna be wrong so I'm just gonna shut up and you can think what you want." Tony pushed past Ziva, hurried out of the elevator, headed straight for his desk, picked up his gear bag, made a U-turn, pushed past Ziva again, made a beeline for the elevator, slammed the "down" button and looked down at his feet as the doors closed, removing him from everyone's sight.

Ziva stood, stunned, by her desk as the scene unfolded.

Tony was a liar. And such a good one.

She'd really believed there was something between them Friday night -- the surprise date, the romantic evening, the passionate kiss, the way he'd held her when the emotion suddenly overwhelmed her...

Lies.

This was Tony. How could she have forgotten?

He would never change.

-------------------------------------------

As soon as he entered his apartment, Tony furiously slung his gear bag across the room, knocking down a table lamp on the far side of the room.

He was disgusted with himself for how he'd just treated Ziva, for pretending like he didn't care about her or the time they'd spent together Friday, for how he'd hidden from her the rest of the weekend -- afraid of how close he'd come to waking her Friday night after he'd put her in her bed.

So that he could make love to her.

Knowing it was too soon, he'd forced himself to leave before he did what he usually did: screwed things up.

And now? Things were really screwed up.


	3. Dreaming With A Broken Heart

Title: Dreaming With A Broken Heart  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Angst  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"When you're dreaming with a broken heart / The giving up is the hardest part / She takes you in with her crying eyes / Then all at once you have to say goodbye"_ - John Mayer

**-------------------- Dreaming With A Broken Heart ---------------------**

A long, hard run always got whatever woman Tony was trying to get off his mind out of his system -- for good. The more he pushed himself to pick up the pace, rack up the miles and sweat out the stress of another failed series of meaningless dates or, rarely, another wrecked, too-short relationship he'd never planned on seeing through, the better he felt. He counted on this; it was his only way of dealing with the loneliness that ate at him every day.

This night, however, after what had happened earlier at work in the elevator with Ziva, no amount of running could clear Tony's head. As he pounded the pavement, one foot before the other, he mentally replayed the scene of himself telling Ziva he was busy all weekend and acting like her feelings didn't matter to him. She was obviously hurt by the way he'd avoided her -- after their impromptu Friday night date and then all morning at work -- and he'd treated her terribly.

Panting for air, Tony collapsed onto the grass next to the track in the park. Lying on his back, he looked up at the night sky as he tried to catch his breath. Inky blackness surrounded him; even the streetlights were too dim to offer any comforting illumination. There were usually at least a few other joggers in the park at this hour of the evening but not this night. He was completely alone.

Every muscle in Tony's body screamed in agony. He'd pushed himself far too hard this time.

He knew that, painful as things were now, he'd recover. He'd be back out running in a day or so.

But there would be no getting Ziva off his mind. Or out of his system.

-------------------------------------------

Usually, Ziva handled rejection by heading to the gym and working on her kickboxing until she was so exhausted she just couldn't think about the problem anymore. But the way Tony had acted left her numb and she simply headed home, skipped dinner, took a long bath and went to bed much earlier than usual.

Curling up under her covers with the shades drawn, Ziva lay wide-eyed, staring at the opposite wall. Why had she believed anything Tony said? She knew his history with women, how he bragged openly about the many -- what was it Abby had joked about? how had she put it? -- notches on his bedposts marking all of his conquests. Even Gibbs had once half-jokingly insulted him with a remark asking what Tony possibly knew about fifth dates.

Tony was proud of being a lothario, the kind of man who would never settle down or be, as she'd heard him put it, "roped and hog-tied into commitment like those guys you see Saturdays at the mall, shopping for that perfect ottoman with the wives. Poor bastards." She knew that. And she still wanted him; she'd said 'yes' to going out with him; the thought of spending an evening alone with him outside of work had excited her.

Fine. She could blame Tony for hurting her, for using her, for lying to her. What Ziva couldn't do, she knew, was blame him for the fact that she knew he was who he was -- and she still loved him and wanted desperately to be with him.

And that was something she could never hide from.

-------------------------------------------

With the steam enveloping him in the shower, Tony let the scorching streams of water pelt his body, hoping the intense heat would relax his muscles and take away the aches and pains left from his run. Too exhausted even to soap up, he leaned against the tiled shower wall for support; he felt as if his legs would give way any minute if he dared move.

He wondered how he'd face Ziva tomorrow at work. Gibbs would have his head for missing today, that much he already knew. But he could handle that. Getting through the day with Ziva was another story. This was a problem he'd created. Now he had to man up and face it.

_Why do I always ruin everything that's good in my life?_ Tony thought. _Ziva's too good for me. And if I let her fall for me, I'll ruin her, too. And I love her too much to do that to her._

-------------------------------------------

As sleep overtook Ziva, one final thought crossed her mind.

_Tomorrow I will end it with Tony... He would never be happy with only me. And I love him too much to hurt him._


	4. I Don't Trust Myself With Loving You

Title: I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You)  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: MA  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Angst  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"No I'm not the man I used to be lately / See you met me at an interesting time / And if my past is any sign of your future / You should be warned before I let you inside"_ - John Mayer

**-------------------- I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You) ---------------------**

_Agent Ron Sacks, FBI: Good enough company for a Friday night_, Ziva thought to herself, chin propped on her palm as she watched his mouth moving -- he'd been talking endlessly about his numerous case 'scores' -- while not a word of what he said reached her ears. All in all, just being out on a date was something she should be happy about considering that ...

... the previous Tuesday at work, she had planned on sticking by her plan to tell Tony whatever there had been between them, if anything, was officially over. And she did it -- she told him. After Tony ambushed her in the elevator, "conference room"-style, beating her to the punch by telling her that he was sorry he'd hurt her feelings that weekend but not to worry about it happening again -- their first date had been their last. He was no good for her and she deserved better, a man who would really appreciate and love her. She'd slapped him (hard), "ended" it with him as planned and, unless work was involved, the pair hadn't spoken since.

... on Wednesday, Sacks dropped by the office to speak with Gibbs about a joint FBI / NCIS investigation. While Tony snarled at him from behind his desk, Sacks made a point of flirting openly with Ziva. But this time she returned his interest. Or so it seemed. She didn't care for him but taking his compliments and chatting him up was infuriating Tony. Ziva normally despised these sort of games but given Tony's recent behavior she felt justified. And so when Sacks asked her out right in front of Tony, she readily agreed. Sacks said he'd call and left. Tony glared at her, off and on, the rest of the day. Strangely, she felt better. Guilty, but somehow better.

... by Thursday, Tony was acting like his old self -- like he didn't care about Ziva's date with Sacks. He took his anger out on McGee, berating the junior agent about anything and everything. To his credit, McGee had a sense of what was really going on with Tony and proved his maturity by ignoring Tony's horrible mood. When Sacks called, Ziva took note at how Tony pretended to read a file as he strained to overhear the conversation. "Tomorrow night?" she said when Sacks proposed the time for their date. "I would enjoy that, _Ron_." Hearing Ziva call Sacks by his first name, Tony cringed. Ziva had tried not to smile.

... all day Friday, Tony was insufferable to everyone in the office except Gibbs. Bragging loudly about how he'd met an up-and-coming model while jogging Thursday night, he told McGee, who was paying no attention, that if he didn't show for work Monday it was because he'd probably be all tied up ("heh... get it, Probie? ... tied up?") helping his super-hot "friend" try out some new poses for photo shoots -- or whatever. Gibbs, standing behind Tony without his knowledge, told him that if he wasn't there by 0700 Monday morning the only photo shoots he'd be part of would be the ones McGee would take of the scene where they discovered what remained of his body. "Be here on the dot, Boss. Wouldn't miss a Monday for the world -- or a model," Tony quickly said. McGee laughed. Ziva smirked and returned to some research she'd been assigned. Tony fumed, shot her a dirty look, and nearly fell when he almost missed the chair in trying to sit at his desk while giving her the evil eye.

Sacks' droning, by comparison, was ... astoundingly boring. She had to admit that. But at least she knew what to expect: More stories, more wine, more wondering when it would all be finally, blissfully over.

-------------------------------------------

When Ziva arrived home, she was exhausted from the date with Sacks, mainly from pretending as if she'd been interested in anything he'd had to say all evening. He was handsome, suave, fit -- everything she liked in a man. But he wasn't Tony.

Sacks had obviously gotten the message. At the door, there was no awkward attempt at a goodnight kiss or a try at an invite inside. He asked if they could hang out again sometime soon, maybe hit the gym and get in some kickboxing. Ziva politely said that would be great.

Now, though, alone in her apartment, Ziva analyzed what had just happened. A gorgeous man took her out on a date that any other woman would have considered fantastic. Others would think her lucky to have spent the evening with Sacks. And here she was, unhappy and feeling as if she'd wasted an entire night.

Why did she have to love Tony? Why couldn't she love a normal man who would love her back?

There was a knock at the door and Ziva went to answer. Sacks must have had second thoughts. She tried to think of what excuse she'd give Sacks as to why she wouldn't invite him in. _Not feeling well from dinner_, she thought. _That should work._ But she hated lying to him. Still, she was ready for the night to end.

"Ron, is everything alright? I am not feeling so well now from dinner and..."

She stopped short when his eyes met hers.

Tony's face, scarlet with fury, greeted Ziva.

-------------------------------------------

"Slacks, Ziva? SLACKS?!!!"

"His name is Sacks, Tony."

"Whatever! I can think of a few others for him, most of them four-letter."

"Why are you here? Isn't your supermodel expecting you?"

"I'll answer your question when you answer mine."

"Why Slacks? Because I did not feel like wearing a dress!"

"Cute. Is this the part where I laugh? Cut the comedy, Ziva. You know what I meant."

"NO, Tony, I do NOT know what you meant!"

"WHY the HELL were you out on a DATE with that S.O.B.?!!! THAT'S what I MEANT, DAMMIT!!! CLEAR ENOUGH FOR YA?!!!"

"Do not SCREAM at me, TONY!"

"Then answer me."

"We agreed to keep our business and personal lives separate, remember? I believe that was the message you sent when you did your best to ignore me after our date a few weeks ago."

"Yeah... Well, you already stuck the knife in when you told me there could never be anything between us. And now you're going out with Sacks to twist it around, huh, Ziva?"

"Go home, Tony." Ziva tried to close the door, but Tony thrust his body into the jamb so that she couldn't.

"You sleeping with him?" Tony's voice was barely a whisper.

Ziva shot him a furious look.

"That is NONE of your business!" This time, she successfully pushed Tony out into the hallway, slamming the door in his face.

All was silent for a few seconds as Ziva, irate over Tony's question, tried to calm herself. She walked away from the door, turning to brace herself against the back of her sofa.

With a loud bang, the door seemed to explode as Tony kicked his way in. Ziva whirled around to see him, chest heaving from the effort, standing in her apartment. Quietly closing the door behind him, Tony carefully made sure it was locked.

Ziva stood, speechless, as Tony made his way to her. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he now stood just inches from her, face-to-face, his green eyes piercing hers. He was sweaty and breathing hard from breaking down the door.

"Are. You. Sleeping. With. Him." Tony said in a low voice once more.

Gathering her emotions, Ziva answered.

"Of course not."

Tony loosened his tie, panting for air. His eyes never left Ziva's.

"I know," he said as he removed the tie and undid the top few buttons of his dress shirt. "I know you aren't."

Ziva inhaled deeply, staring flatly at Tony, who caressed her cheek before leaning in to tenderly kiss her.

"Tony..." Ziva moaned, breaking the kiss. "Your supermodel..."

"_What_ supermodel?" Tony whispered, his mouth again seeking hers.

Tony's suit jacket fell to the floor. Next, his shirt. Before long, a random trail of expensive clothing showed the way to Ziva's bedroom.

-------------------------------------------

Tony explored the whole of Ziva's body, first with his lips, then with his tongue, caressing her olive skin as she moaned his name, murmuring occasional Hebrew words and phrases he didn't understand but knew instinctively were expressions reserved for only the most intimate moments. He desperately wanted to become one with her, make love to her, finally know the feeling of being as physically close to her as was possible, but the foreplay was exciting him, too, as much as it was causing him the sweetest sort of intense pain. Tony wondered, for a split second, how long he could hold back.

At last, Ziva proved the one who could wait no longer. Pressing her body fully against Tony's, she gripped his strong shoulders, turning him onto his back. Breathlessly, they both paused for a moment, foreheads touching, staring into one another's eyes. Ziva rolled off Tony, opening the drawer of a small table next to the bed. Tony lay, breathing hard, watching, as she took a small, black plastic square from the drawer. Smiling at him over her shoulder, Ziva rolled back his way, lifting her body back on top of his. Tony pulled her tight against him.

"For me?" he said, panting, a grin playing at his sweaty lips. Tony reached for the small black square as Ziva dangled it over his chest. "How thoughtful... And it isn't even my birthday."

"Only the best for you, Tony," Ziva purred, licking her lips. "Allow me to ... unwrap your gift. You would like to see if it fits, yes?"

Tony's entire body suddenly spasmed with pleasure.

"Hope it's my size," Tony said, almost completely out of breath now, his voice husky with desire.

"I will make any necessary... adjustments." Ziva leaned back, tantalizingly unwrapping the small square as Tony stroked the outside of her thighs, trying to keep his hands from trembling.

Slipping the condom onto Tony, Ziva's heart raced. Tony gasped aloud, suddenly fighting for air, as the soft touch of Ziva's hands further aroused him.

She positioned herself on him, her slim, strong hips straddling Tony's, and he lay back, surrendering himself completely to her will.

As the night went on, they told each other how much they loved and wanted one another, over and over, until there were no more words left to say.

-------------------------------------------

Exhausted, Tony and Ziva lay on the bed, dozing. With her head resting on his shoulder, Ziva studied Tony's chest hair as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Tony, himself half-asleep, nuzzled her forehead as he inhaled the scent of Ziva's skin.

"Nobody can ever know about this, about ... us," Ziva said finally, quietly and deliberately. "We would not be allowed to work together. I would be sent back to Israel, to Mossad."

"You don't know that," Tony murmured. But he knew she was right.

"I do. As do you." She looked up, facing him. "I am not saying that what we have -- that us being together... like this -- is wrong in any way. It is not, Tony. But the complications where our jobs are concerned..."

"... would be too much to handle. For everyone else -- not us. Yeah, I get it. Plus, the Boss knowing we'd broken Rule 12 and that we were keeping right on doing it? He'd lose it. Totally go crazy old Marine on us. On me, anyway. Be a fair fight with you."

Ziva kissed Tony's chest.

"I cannot give you up, Tony. I love you. I want to be with you."

"I love you, too, Ziva. And I'm NOT gonna give YOU up. So don't worry. We'll just... work it out. It's not like we aren't used to keeping secrets, right?"

"True... but we will be lying. To people who trust us. And who we trust. I do not like that. But..."

"... what choice do we have?"


	5. I'd Rather Be With You

Title: I'd Rather Be With You  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Hurt / Comfort  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"I could have saved so much time for us / Had I seen the way to get to where I am today"_ - Joshua Radin  
**  
-------------------- I'd Rather Be With You ---------------------**

"DiNozzo. My office. Fifteen minutes."

Tony swallowed hard. Being called to Director Vance's office reminded him of all the times he'd been summoned to the principal's office -- in elementary school... in junior high... in high school... AFTER graduating high school...

Ziva's eyes followed Vance as he made his way up the stairs. Once he was out of sight, she turned her attention to Tony.

"What could he possibly want with you?" she asked. "Your badge? Your gun? Your complete work of fiction otherwise known as an expense report from that two-hour 'business lunch' you and McGee took last week at that new restaurant you could not stop talking about?" Tony smiled.

"Ahhh... Le Surf 'N' Turf. Classy place. Prime rib so rare it mooed when they sliced it off at your table. Lobsters the size of small infants. Martinis so dry the Sahara seemed monsoon-like by comparison. Chocolate molten lava cake spewing fudgy goodness with the power of a thousand volcanoes. Probie and I ate like kings that day."

"And one of us tipped like a pauper," McGee noted. "Luckily, I made things right or else the 'king' might have found himself unceremoniously dethroned by his subjects."

"That waiter deserved every penny he DIDN'T get, McGullible!" Tony barked. "Shoulda stuck to taking orders and laid off giving advice."

"He asked Tony if he'd like to see the 'light' menu," McGee explained to Ziva, who giggled. Tony scowled. Looking down, he sucked in his stomach and sat straighter in his chair.

"DiNOZZO!" The director's voice got everyone's attention. Tony jumped.

"On your si... uh... MY twel... um... COMING, sir!"

-------------------------------------------

"It's a sensitive assignment, DiNozzo, so these are my orders: DON'T SCREW IT UP."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no sir. I won't, sir. Screw it up. Sir. Um... sir?"

"WHAT, DiNozzo?"

"Exactly what is 'it' that I'm not screwing up? Sir."

-------------------------------------------

Ziva couldn't believe her ears. THIS was an official NCIS assignment? Her Mossad colleagues would laugh at the silliness of it. But she didn't find it the least bit humorous.

"Your ASSIGNMENT is to escort the new Brazilian ambassador's daughter to her first State dinner? Is Vance JOKING?"

"What can I say? I get all the worst gigs here. Should I rent a tux or just trade up and buy a new one? The old one's getting a little mileage on it. Oh, the stories my old tux could tell... heh heh heh..."

Ziva shot Tony a look that quickly shut him up. Pulling her aside by the stairs for privacy, he tried explaining the situation.

"Look, Vance is MAKING me take this girl out, OK? It's not like I ASKED for the job!"

"But you did not REFUSE it, either!"

"Like I COULD? C'mon, Ziva, we said we were gonna have to keep... US ... a secret. And YOU try telling Vance no sometime -- lemme know how well THAT goes!"

"Making sure that no one here knows about our relationship does NOT mean you should take any opportunity to see another woman when it is presented to you! How do you think this makes me FEEL, Tony?!!!"

Tony folded his arms defiantly, unable to believe that Ziva didn't trust him.

"Well, you're SOUNDING like a JEALOUS CHICK!" Tony said angrily. "And you know what? It's a REAL turn-off, Ziva! You act like I'm ENJOYING getting to go out with her!"

Ziva fixed Tony with a furious glare. She struggled to keep her temper in check.

"THAT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE ENJOYING IT, TONY!" Ziva yelled, her voice trembling as she stormed off. Tony watched her go, snarling as he placed his hands on his hips. His jaw tightened as he fumed at the confrontation they'd just had.

"YOU KNOW WHAT?" he called after her, loudly so she and the rest of the main NCIS room would be sure to hear, "NOW I AM PLANNING ON MAKING A NIGHT OF IT!"

-------------------------------------------

When the black stretch limo arrived at Tony's apartment building to pick him up for the night's festivities, he had a momentary flashback to his last limousine ride -- when his ex-girlfriend Jeanne's father, the notorious arms dealer René Benoit (aka "La Grenouille") who he'd been secretly investigating for then-Director Shepard, had arranged to pick them up at the hospital where she worked. The day had quickly turned disastrous -- not unlike this one. His earlier argument with Ziva had left him angry and bitter all afternoon; he felt a need to show her that she didn't control him just because they were seeing each other. Tony closed his eyes, shook his head as if to force the awful memories -- of the nightmare ride with Jeanne and her father and of the heated exchange with Ziva -- out, adjusted his tuxedo, took a deep breath and got into the limo when the chauffeur opened the door for him.

Inside, a gorgeous young woman in her mid-twenties awaited him. As Tony took his seat, the woman studied him from head to toe, slowly taking in the sight of him with her dark brown eyes, and flashed him only the slightest smile. Her sleek, satiny white formal dress was simple but contrasted magnificently against her cocoa skin; she had piled her long, black hair up. Her perfume smelled of a hint of cinnamon and Tony found himself enchanted by the scent. Despite trying not to look, he couldn't help but notice her long, smooth, shapely legs. She was tall, he could tell, and perfectly ... fit. _Everything just as it should be_, he thought -- and then immediately felt guilty for thinking it.

"Special Agent DiNozzo..." the woman said, her soft Latin accent lending the words a musical quality, "... it is my pleasure to spend the evening with such an ... attractive gentleman. May I call you Antonio? I find it ... easier to remember."

"Sure," Tony said, blushing at the compliment. "And may I call you... ah..." Tony laughed nervously. "I ... didn't ... get your name from ... the Director. Heh..." He squirmed in the limo seat and fidgeted with his bow tie.

"Alessandra," the girl said, her name rolling seductively off her tongue.

"Alessandra," Tony repeated dreamily, giving her his sexiest smile, as he stared into her dark eyes, moving closer to her as the limo quietly continued on towards its destination.

-------------------------------------------

After the formal dinner, which seemed endless to Tony (who nearly nodded off at certain points), the guests made their way to the main state ballroom. When the first song started, Tony took Alessandra's hand, led her to the ballroom floor and, somewhat nervously taking her into his arms, slow-danced with her. He felt the same way he had at his first junior high dance when he wasn't sure who should lead (and the girl he danced with finally just took over). Dancing like this, with a woman who wasn't Ziva, wasn't right and he knew it. Nor had been acting as if he were flirting with Alessandra all evening.

At last Alessandra noticed the change and pulled back to face Tony.

"Being close to me makes you nervous, Antonio?" she asked, a sly smile playing at her lips. Tony swallowed hard, searching for the right answer. He'd been a jerk for acting interested in her but that wasn't Alessandra's fault and Tony didn't want to hurt her feelings -- or, honestly, anger her. Neither would be smart.

"Heh... Naaaahhh! I'm just ... not ... This really isn't MY kind of dancing," Tony stuttered, trying to smile.

"You like..." Alessandra pressed tighter against Tony, "... the more physical dances?"

"Well, who's not a fan of the Macarena?" Tony joked, feeling incredibly uncomfortable at how he'd been acting all evening. Trying to hurt Ziva was actually making him miserable. He couldn't stop thinking of her, no matter how much he tried pretending he was interested in his "date." _Great job... ANTONIO_, he thought, disgusted with himself. _Nice way to treat your girlfriend -- you know, the woman you just busted down a door to make love to._ Nagging guilt, at not spending a night like this with Ziva, ate at Tony. He felt hollow and a sudden, intense sadness came over him. He missed Ziva; he loved her. She was right; he shouldn't have agreed to take this assignment, even if it meant catching hell from Vance. If she'd been "forced" to go out with another man? Yeah... it would drive him crazy.

Looking around for an excuse to make a hasty exit, he noticed the limo chauffeur -- a young, swarthy, handsome Latino -- glaring at him ominously as he danced with Alessandra. "Are, um ... are we supposed to be, uh... leaving now? 'Cause the driver's looking at us like we've overstayed our welcome here. And, y'know, I actually have to be at work really early tomorrow, so..."

Alessandra narrowed her eyes in the man's direction, staring daggers back at him across the room.

"Pay no attention to Carlos," she hissed. "_Es celoso._"

"Huh?" Tony looked confused.

"Jealous," Alessandra said, sneering at Carlos over Tony's shoulder. Carlos scowled back, putting on his driver's cap as he turned and headed out of the ballroom.

"Ohhh," Tony said. Sensing a way out of the fix he'd gotten himself into, Tony opted to now put his detective skills to use. "So... Carlos has a ... thing for you?"

Alessandra grabbed Tony's hand, pulling him off the dance floor. Finding an area of the ballroom far from the rest of the guests, she spoke to him in confidence.

"What I tell you goes no further," she whispered. Tony nodded, and she continued. "Carlos is my fiancé. We have been secretly engaged for months now and we want to tell my father. But... " she looked down, her lip quivering, "... he will not approve of my marrying a man of Carlos' ... station. He will disown me."

"You're keeping it secret. So you don't hurt other people. Or get hurt yourselves. I understand. My girlfriend and I are having to do the same thing right now. It's hard."

Alessandra looked up at Tony and put a hand to her mouth, alarmed.

"Oh, no! I did not know you were taken! I was only trying to... I am so ashamed! Please forgive me... Carlos was furious that my father requested an escort for me tonight and we argued earlier today -- a terrible confrontation -- and so I have been..."

"... pretending to flirt with me?" Tony smirked. "Yeah. I'm guilty of that, too. Same fight, same reason, same dumb plan. You feeling as awful as I am right now?"

"Yes," Alessandra said. "Carlos does not deserve to be treated this way."

"Neither does Ziva. You ready to make this right -- go find Carlos and 'fess up?"

"Absolutely. And I suppose it is time we -- I -- told my father the truth. Carlos also deserves that." She thought a minute and added, "Ziva is your girlfriend? That is a lovely name."

"She's a lovely lady."

"I'm sure she is -- and quite lucky to have you... Tony."

"Actually," Tony said, "I'm the lucky one."

-------------------------------------------

Stumbling into her kitchen for a midnight glass of water, Ziva drowsily fumbled for a tumbler, got a glass of cold water, opened the refrigerator and studied its contents. _I must go to the grocery store_, she thought. _Tony eats like a whore. No... wait... that is not right... He eats like a... a... horde._ She smiled, happy to have conquered one American turn of phrase.

Finally adjusting her eyes to the light cast by the refrigerator across the kitchen into the living room, Ziva noticed the dress shoes at the end of the couch. Suddenly a huge snore broke the silence. Closing the refrigerator door quietly, she made her way to the living room where she lifted the glass of water and poured it down over the sofa.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHH! WHAT THE HELL?!!!" Tony screamed, jumping up from where he'd been sleeping. Ziva flipped on the lights, revealing a sopping wet Tony, his rumpled white dress shirt open at the chest. He stroked the stubble on his chin, frowning.

"WHY are you HERE?" Ziva demanded furiously. "Should you NOT be with your LADY of the EVENING, learning ALL about the CULTURE of BRAZIL?!!!"

Tony stood, hands on hips, staring breathlessly at Ziva, his green eyes sparkling as she straightened herself defiantly, folding her arms as she glared at him. He couldn't keep himself from grinning.

"Turns out she thought I was a real loser," he said, shaking his head. "Threw me over for Carlos, the limo driver." Tony sighed and gave Ziva his best Bambi eyes. "Nobody loves me... anymore." Sticking out his lower lip for the full effect, Tony tried to look pitiful.

"You," Ziva said flatly, "truly are pathetic, Tony."

"Yes, I am," Tony agreed in a quiet voice, taking Ziva's hands in his. Finally, he decided to give up the 'sad' act and be honest. "Look, Ziva... I was a jerk to you today and ... I'm sorry. I missed you tonight. So much. That girl? She was engaged to the limo driver. Funny thing is, he got mad because I was taking her out and they got into it like we did and..."

"Oh, let me guess," Ziva mused, wrapping her arms around Tony's waist. "She tried to make him jealous with you -- just as you tried to make me think you found her attractive, no?"

"Yeah," Tony sighed as Ziva nestled her cheek against his chest. "Pretty stupid, huh?"

"Exceptionally. But I forgive you. Because I love you."

"I love you, too. And next time Vance orders me to take some hot chick out, I'm telling him..."

"... that the answer is no?"

"... that you'll be THRILLED to do it," Tony said, a huge smile crossing his face as he pulled Ziva into a long, deep kiss.


	6. Blinded By The Stars

Title: Blinded By The Stars  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Hurt / Comfort  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: "I would tell the world that I love you / But this waiting game is as serious as statue" - Pernice Brothers

**-------------------- Blinded By The Stars ---------------------**

"Tony, do not do this," Ziva had said quietly, her brown eyes pleading with him. "Please. We agreed to..."

"... LIE to everyone. Yeah, I remember," he'd shot back furiously, not caring if he hurt her just then. "Well, you know what, Ziva? You're doing a GREAT job at it. Just like a REAL pro."

"YOU had no problem doing the SAME thing when you were assigned to escort your Brazilian LADY friend to her state dinner, if I remember correctly!"

"Ohhhhh, I see... Now you're gonna throw THAT in my face, huh? AFTER we worked it out? Nice. REAL nice. I'm OUTTA here!"

That was how he'd ended up alone out in the Virginia countryside, late at night, stranded after running out of gas. Now Tony wondered how he'd get back to D.C. And how, or if, he and Ziva could make things right between them.

-------------------------------------------

"So," he'd asked Ziva earlier that evening as they prepared to exit NCIS headquarters for the weekend, pulling her aside when everyone else had left the main staff room, "... what'll it be tonight, hm? Dinner and a movie? Dinner and drinks and a movie? Or... dinner and drinks and a movie AND..." Tony whispered huskily in Ziva's ear, "... an all-night X-rated Tony-thon featuring my latest and greatest moves? It's an exclusive showing in my bedroom. Adults only."

Ziva smiled seductively.

"That last idea intrigues me, Tony, but... I cannot," she whispered back. "Tonight I have been asked to work late. Gibbs wants me to meet a contact. Someone from the current Iranian administration who has intel on the 1979 American embassy takeover."

"That's thirty years ago," Tony said, looking confused. "Why's Gibbs interested in intel on that? The hostages have been home since '81. Case closed."

"A Marine was killed during the initial uprising. Nobody has ever been prosecuted," Ziva replied. "That case is still open. This man claims first-hand knowledge of the murder, which he says he witnessed as a young teenager."

"_First-hand?_" Tony asked. "Sounds like _he's_ your guy."

"That," Ziva said, "is what I will try to figure out. Tonight at dinner."

-------------------------------------------

"Dinner? DINNER?!!!" Tony was taken aback at this revelation. "Gibbs is having you go OUT with this sleazebag? Doesn't sound like the Boss."

"That is because it is not his idea. It is mine. Gibbs is not entirely comfortable with the plan."

"Yeah? Well, neither am I. Why do you think you've gotta finesse this jerk for intel? Just haul him in here and make him spill. Mission accomplished."

"You do not understand, Tony. It is not so simple. He seeks asylum. He fears retribution if he is discovered."

"And a night out on the town going over the Chef's Specials is safer than bringing him here? Sorry, Ziva. Not following."

"IF I were to bring him here, he would NOT talk. Because he WOULD be punished -- even if he claimed to have no understanding of why NCIS detained him. My plan is to go undercover tonight -- he will not know that I am Israeli; I will not use my real name -- and begin the process of breaking down his defenses. We must get him to trust us. It is not so easy with a man of his standing. Also, given that he is Iranian..."

"I could give a damn about his standing," Tony snapped, fuming. "Sounds to me like you're looking forward to hooking up with this guy on some level. What's _that_ about, hm?"

Ziva looked at Tony incredulously, truly shocked at what he'd just said.

"'Hooking up' with him, Tony? The man is a contact!" Ziva glared at him, outraged. "Not to mention the fact that he is nearly 45 years old!"

"You're the one who's planning out dinner reservations, honey," Tony hissed. "Nobody's twisting your arm."

"WHY are you acting this way?" Ziva shot back. "Like a jealous lover!"

"Hmmm... I don't know." Tony made a mock 'thinking' face. "Guess it's because I AM a JEALOUS LOVER! YOURS!"

And then came the bitter exchange about hiding their relationship, Tony's 'assignment' and thinking everything had been OK. But it hadn't been. That much was now clear.

_How could I have ever thought this was gonna work?_ Tony thought to himself as he opened the trunk of his vintage Mustang, hauling out the gas can. Looking around at his surroundings, he sighed. Above him was a clear night sky, stars sparkling and twinkling, and ahead of him was a two-lane highway -- no lights, no traffic and no gas station in sight. Taking a long night drive seemed like a great way to get his mind off Ziva when he'd peeled out of the NCIS headquarters parking lot but now... he was just lost. And feeling incredibly lonely.

-------------------------------------------

_Cellphone service not available in this area..._ No matter how far Tony walked along the highway, he couldn't pick up a signal to call anyone for help. Finally, he just gave up, flipped his phone shut and put it in his pants pocket. No one was coming to rescue him and he had to accept it. So he trudged on, exhausted from the long day and his fight with Ziva. Why did they always argue? Why couldn't they have a relationship like all the other couples he saw -- spending weekends sleeping in, grocery shopping, jogging in the park, taking vacations, running errands, doing "boring" things... but doing them together?

_Right_, he remembered, _we aren't like all the other couples out there. We're NCIS. She's my partner. This is the ONLY way we can be together._

Too depressed to walk any further, Tony sat down, plunking his empty gas can beside him. _It's not fair_, he thought, miserably, looking up the deserted highway, _Ziva and I can't have a REAL life together. How could I have ever thought this was gonna work?_ It was the question he'd been asking himself all night. And he still didn't have the answer.

-------------------------------------------

After what seemed like hours, Tony finally saw headlights in the distance. Standing, he waved the gas can in the air, yelling "HEY! HEYYYYYY! OVER HERE! HEYYYYY! STOP! STOPPPPPPPP!" The headlights got closer and he shielded his eyes against the bright light. The car, which he couldn't make out immediately, stopped, its engine still running. He heard a door open, then close.

"Hey, can you please give me a ride to the closest gas station around here?" Tony asked, still trying to adjust his eyes to the bright light. "My car's just down the road and I ran outta gas. I'd really appreciate it and..."

"... we will throw this in each other's faces later, Tony?"

The sound of her voice made him sigh with relief. He knew everything would be alright now.

"No, Ziva," Tony said quietly, as his girlfriend's slim form emerged from the white headlights. "We won't. I promise."

"And I promise," Ziva replied softly, taking the gas can from him, "never to again bring up your Brazilian state dinner assignment again. You are right, Tony. That was unfair. I am sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Tony answered. "About getting so mad over your meeting with that guy tonight." He stopped short, giving Ziva a quizzical look. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be meeting with that guy tonight? Like, right now? What happened?"

"He did not show," Ziva said. "You were correct in your assessment of him, it appears. A sleazebox."

"SleazeBAG, Sweet Cheeks. And who knows? Maybe he just got scared. For the reasons you mentioned. Maybe both of us can figure out a way to bring him in and get that intel. For Gibbs. For that Marine, y'know?"

"I like the sound of that plan, Tony. Perhaps we can work on the details... this weekend?"

Tony smiled as he and Ziva got into her car.

"ALL weekend? That Tony-thon offer still stands."

"In that case, I will bring the popcorn."

"Yeah... Let's pick some up -- the extra-buttery kind. At the gas station."

"They sell it there?"

"Yep. Along with... other stuff... we'll need."

"Then let us find the nearest gas station quickly."

And the answers to Tony's questions -- about how he and Ziva would work things out after their earlier argument and how they'd go about making a real life together -- became clearer, little by little, all through the night... and on through the weekend.


	7. Only The Lonely Pt 1

Title: Only The Lonely Pt. 1  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Hurt / Comfort  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"We live without each other thinking what anyone would do / Without me and you" - The Motels_

**-------------------- Only The Lonely Pt. 1 ---------------------**

When the weekends ended, they had to go back to pretending they were just colleagues. At work, there could be no hint of real feelings between them; any intimacy had to wait for private moments off the clock. It was a harsh compromise, Tony and Ziva understood, but it was the only way they could see to have any kind of relationship.

The weeknights were most difficult, especially for Ziva. Because Tony feared losing his job if Gibbs or Vance found out about their romance, he spent the days treating her in a particularly cold, often cruel manner. If she tried kidding with him, he pretended not to hear. His responses to her questions or comments were short and snippy. Often, Tony had nothing to say to Ziva, although he easily chatted up the other female NCIS agents in the main room, laughing at their jokes and openly flirting with them.

Ziva watched this day after day, telling herself that Tony only acted in such a manner as cover to keep their love affair secret and, therefore, safe. But as he continued the "act" week to week, she began to wonder if Tony wasn't really just using her for sex while he pursued other women.

Tony's public treatment hurt Ziva deeply Monday through Friday. He made her feel terrible during the weekdays, compounding it by breaking her heart every weeknight when he didn't call, email or text. And yet from Friday night to early Monday morning, just before the dawn, he was incredibly loving and tender. During their weekends together, Tony spoke only of how much he loved her, how there was no one else or couldn't ever be anyone else again -- how they should start a real life together, have a family. When they made love, Tony couldn't get enough of her.

She didn't understand how Tony could be so passionate and then so distant. They had agreed to keep their affair a secret -- but did it have to be this way?

-------------------------------------------

**Monday morning, 7 a.m.**

Ziva sat at her desk, finishing an assignment from the previous day, when Tony arrived. As had become his custom each weekday morning, he hurriedly strode right past her without speaking, dropping his gear bag at his desk. Sitting down, he quickly logged onto his computer and peered at the screen as he lifted the phone receiver to his ear, checking his voicemail. Ziva quietly studied him, her dark eyes watching Tony's movements. No matter how often he repeated this routine, he never failed to look nervous.

Taking some notes as he picked up his messages, Tony made sure to avoid Ziva's steady gaze, going so far as to shade his eyes with his hand by propping it against his forehead. _This is new_, Ziva noted. Going back to her own work, she silently fumed at allowing herself to be treated this way -- especially by someone who claimed to love her so much. _I deserve better_, she thought. _I would never treat Tony like this._

Hearing Tony hang up the phone, Ziva took a deep breath and steeled herself. It was time to confront him about how his so-called "at-work act" was hurting her. As a Mossad officer, she'd been trained to kill -- and she did so quite well -- but now, Ziva's stomach cramped from fear. She didn't want this.

"Good morning, Tony," she said softly, slowly making her way across the aisle to his desk. Tony pretended not to hear her, continuing to tap away at his computer keyboard while focusing on his monitor. Ziva swallowed, already getting frustrated, and tried again.

"Tony," she said, a bit more forcefully, "In going over some case files that Gibbs assigned to me yesterday, I noticed there is a cold case among them that you worked on a few years back. I would like to get your perspective on that case sometime today, when you have time." Tony continued ignoring her.

Just then, Tim arrived, making his way past Tony's desk behind Ziva.

"McTardy!" Tony said brightly, greeting Tim with a huge smile. "So nice of you to join us -- LATE, as usual. Y'know, as SENIOR Field Agent, it's REALLY my duty to file a report about that but I think this time I'll just let it slide, Probie, because I'm sure you're whipped from that big weekend you probably spent playing World of Warcraft and..."

"TONY!" Ziva yelled, slamming her hands down on the top of his desk. The entire NCIS main room went silent. "CONFERENCE ROOM! NOW!" Whipping around furiously, she stalked towards the elevator. Tim gaped, wide-eyed, first at the departing Ziva, then at Tony, who sat stock-still at his desk, staring in the direction Ziva was headed. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and got up from his desk.

-------------------------------------------

"What the HELL was THAT for, Ziva? You trying to get us BOTH FIRED?!!! McGee was RIGHT THERE!!!" Tony tried keeping his voice down in the confined space of the elevator but found it difficult.

Ziva hammered the "STOP" button with the back of her fist.

"I DO NOT CARE IF McGEE OR THE WHOLE OFFICE HEARD ME, TONY!!! I AM TIRED OF YOU IGNORING ME AND ACTING AS IF YOU DO NOT HEAR ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU!!!"

"Dammit, Ziva, keep it down, OK? I know we're in the elevator but..."

"AND I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THAT, EITHER!" Ziva realized she was completely losing control of her emotions. But she frankly felt justified. "EVERY WORKDAY, YOU TREAT ME AS IF YOU DESPISE ME, TONY, AND THEN ON WEEKENDS YOU CLAIM YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH ME AND THAT YOU WANT TO SPEND YOUR LIFE WITH ME! I WATCH YOU FLIRT WITH EVERY WOMAN IN THE OFFICE MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY AND THEN YOU CANNOT KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF ME FROM FRIDAY NIGHT UNTIL -- WELL, ONLY A FEW HOURS AGO, IN FACT!" Ziva's entire body was trembling.

Tony crossed his arms defensively across his chest. He couldn't argue with anything Ziva had said.

"Okay," he said, as quietly and calmly as possible, purposely trying to act like the more rational of the pair. "You're right. I've done all that. Because we AGREED we had to keep our relationship completely SECRET from everyone here in the office, Ziva!" Moving towards her, Tony reached out to touch her shoulder. "Ziva... you don't think I really MEAN anything I say or do here... do you? Baby... it's all an ACT. I'm not interested in ANY of these women -- just YOU! I'm not really IGNORING you, honey -- I hear everything you say to me, Z. I'm ALWAYS listening!"

"LIAR!" Ziva screamed, slapping Tony's hand away. Now, hot tears streamed down her cheeks and she made no effort to brush them away. "YOU HAVE BEEN USING ME LIKE... LIKE I AM SOME PATHETIC LOVESICK FOOL! WELL, NO MORE, TONY! IT IS OVER!" Punching the "STOP" button again, she restarted the elevator, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed.

Tony found it hard to breathe. His throat tightened so that he could barely speak.

"Ziva," he rasped, his voice breaking, "you don't... mean that. PLEASE..." Tony took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "Ziva, c'mon... Ziva, I LOVE YOU!" His heart pounding, he again reached out, this time to try taking her in his arms. Tony couldn't stand to see her cry. He moved to embrace her, his hands just barely touching her slim waist.

At the feel of his hands on her, Ziva slammed Tony against the elevator wall, knocking the wind out of him.

"Do NOT put your HANDS on ME... TONY," she said in a harsh, bitter whisper. "Not EVER again!" Pushing him against the wall once more to further her point, Ziva let him drop to the floor. The elevator doors opened and she quickly exited into the NCIS main room. After a moment, the elevator doors closed again.

Tony sat on the elevator floor, breathless and coughing. He stared at the shiny metallic doors.

_My God_, he thought. _What have I done? And how do I fix this?_


	8. Only The Lonely Pt 2

Title: Only The Lonely Pt. 2  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Hurt / Comfort  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"We live without each other thinking what anyone would do / Without me and you" - The Motels_

**-------------------- Only The Lonely Pt. 2 ---------------------**  
_  
Friday evening, 10 p.m., Washington D.C._

Tony sat at his desk in the MTAC main room, staring forlornly across the aisle at Ziva's desk. All week long, she'd been out of town and he missed her terribly. After their argument in the elevator that Monday, Ziva had stormed out after telling Tony their secret love affair was over -- that she was tired of the cold way he'd been treating her in the office and how he'd openly flirted with their female colleagues. Tony tried explaining that he was only acting that way to keep their relationship a secret but Ziva wasn't hearing it. He hadn't realized just how much he'd been hurting her and now he'd lost her.

When she'd slammed him against the elevator wall in a fit of rage, then making her exit, he'd ridden the elevator down to the basement while he tried collecting himself. All the way down, he thought of what he'd say when he got back up to MTAC level, how he'd make everything OK again. He'd pull Ziva aside and tell her -- really let her know this time -- how much he truly loved her and that he never meant to hurt her. He'd tell her that he was sorry for acting like a jerk and it would stop right then -- forever -- no matter the consequences. If the whole damn office found out about them, great! And if Gibbs and Vance fired him for it, that was fine, too. He'd still have her and that was all that mattered.

Tony had this speech down pat by the time he got back to MTAC but when he arrived, Ziva was already gone. He'd asked McGee where she was. Tim said Gibbs had grabbed her as soon as she'd gotten off the elevator, pulled her into Vance's office. Looked like a big deal, McGee said, shrugging. Later, Gibbs had strolled to his desk, coffee in hand, and Tony tried casually asking where Ziva had snuck off to. Gibbs said he'd sent her home to pack; she was assigned to work with the L.A. group for the week -- special assignment. When Tony asked what she'd be doing in L.A. and when she'd be back, Gibbs just gave him a look that essentially said he should stop asking questions. So Tony did just that.

And now it was Friday night. Ziva was still in L.A. Tony had called her every day from Monday on, leaving messages, texting her, e-mailing, trying to see if she was on IM, Facebook -- but she was completely incommunicado. Either she wasn't taking his calls or she was unable to do so. Tony was crushed. He hadn't felt so lonely since his breakup with Jeanne and he'd never loved Jeanne the way he loved Ziva. The MTAC main room was now silent, except for the hum of computers. Only Tony remained.

Putting his head down on his desk, he couldn't keep his emotions in anymore. Swallowing hard, he felt hot tears streaming down his cheek. Ziva was gone. What if she wasn't coming back? What if it really was over between them? _You idiot_, he thought. _Why? WHY did you DO this?!!!_

Just then, Tony felt a hand on his shoulder. Ashamed of his tears, he wouldn't look up. Finally, a voice softly broke the MTAC main room silence.

"Wanna grab a beer, Tony?"

Looking up, his green eyes red from crying, Tony had never been so happy to see McGee.

-------------------------------------------

_Friday evening, 11 p.m., Washington D.C._

"She's gone, Tim. I totally screwed up this time. Ziva said it was over. And she meant that. It's really over." Tony's voice was hoarse. He stared blankly at the mirror behind the bar.

"Tony, c'mon," McGee spoke slowly and calmly. "Ziva's just in L.A. for the week, OK? Gibbs only sent her there to help out Callan and those guys. It's just work -- that's all. You two will work it out. I know you will. It's gonna be fine. You'll see. She loves you. She knows you love her. The two of you... just hit a little bump in the road, that's all. It happens." McGee placed a hand on Tony's shoulder, giving him a 'buddy' shake. Tony continued staring into space.

"No, Tim," Tony whispered. "I hurt her too much. She told me never to touch her again. Ever. She cried. I've seen Ziva cry before but never like that. I made her cry. I've never made any woman cry like that -- not even Jeanne." He looked down into his half-empty beer, still appearing shell-shocked. "What if Ziva likes it out there? What if she wants to transfer -- to get away from me?"

Now McGee honestly didn't know what to say. So he simply took another sip of his beer and joined Tony in staring at the wall behind the bar. Together, they sat silently for the next hour or so as the other patrons around them laughed and enjoyed the start of their weekends.

-------------------------------------------

_Los Angeles, 8 p.m._

"Yo! David! It's Callan's night to buy tequila shots at El Padrote's. You in?" Junior Field Agent Kensi Blye sailed a paper airplane dangerously close to Ziva's head as Ziva worked diligently at the desk she'd been assigned in the NCIS: L.A. Special Ops office.

"AND..." Sam Hanna, Kensi's colleague added with a smile, "it's also his night to eat ALL the worms! Ain't that right, G?" He and Kensi snickered as Callan shot them both a smirk from across the room.

"Because I love you so much, Sam," Callan said, grinning, "I'm not gonna kill ya. Yet. And YES, it's my night to eat all the damn worms! Really, Ziva," he said, a twinkle in his eye, "it's a sight not to be missed."

"I do not believe I would be good company," Ziva said softly, continuing to focus on her paperwork. "But I hope the three of you have fun."

Kensi, Sam and Callan all gave each other knowing looks. Finally, Kensi got up from her desk and approached Ziva.

"Y'know, David, that Tony guy? Is all the way back in D.C. And you've been working like crazy since you got here -- not that we haven't been blown away by that. It's awesome, really. But if anyone deserves a night to howl, it's you." Kensi crossed her arms, offering Ziva a "Well? What's it gonna be?" glance. Callan and Sam followed suit from their desks. Ziva looked around at her temporary teammates.

"What the hell?" she said. "Callan, you would like some... worm-eating competition?"

Callan smiled, came over to Ziva's desk and offered her his arm.

"If you're offering to drink me under the table, pretty lady, I'm all for it," he said, a smile playing at his lips as they headed for the door.

Behind them, Kensi and Sam exchanged quizzical looks and Kensi mouthed "Uh-oh" as Sam rolled his eyes.


	9. Only The Lonely Pt 3

Title: Only The Lonely Pt. 3  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Hurt / Comfort  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"We kiss altogether wrong / No intention" - The Motels_

**-------------------- Only The Lonely Pt. 3 ---------------------**

_Saturday morning, 3 a.m., Washington D.C._

Tony lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as he absentmindedly scratched at his chest hair. He'd been home now since just after 11:30. Despite Tim's best efforts to cheer him up by taking him out to a nearby bar, all he'd wanted was to get back to his apartment, turn off the lights and hide away from everyone and everything. He hadn't even touched the beer McGee bought him. All he could think about was Ziva. Missing her was gnawing at him.

And now, alone in his bed -- the bed he often shared with Ziva on their secretive weekends -- Tony's entire body ached for her. The gentle smell of her perfume, her shampoo, her body lotion was all over his sheets, tantalizing him. It didn't matter that he'd just laundered them the night before and re-made the bed then. Ziva's alluring scent permeated everything in his apartment now. She'd become part of his life and her presence was everywhere.

Even when she was nowhere to be found.

-------------------------------------------

_Los Angeles, midnight_

"WORM! WORM! WORM! WORM!"

Kensi and Sam drunkenly chanted in unison, pounding the table as Callan downed yet another shot of straight tequila. He'd promised to eat every worm of every bottle the group polished off that night -- and they'd now gone through two easily. Slamming down the shot glass, which marked the end of bottle three, Callan unsteadily eyeballed the worm, fingering it for a second before gulping it down whole. He pumped both fists in the air triumphantly, "Rocky"-style. Kensi and Sam high-fived each other, nearly missing hands.

Ziva, sitting beside Callan, threw back her tequila shot. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she asked, "So... when does the REAL drinking begin?"

-------------------------------------------

_Saturday morning, 4 a.m., Washington D.C._

He couldn't take it anymore, the not knowing. Tony needed to hear Ziva's voice. Reaching to the table beside the bed, he picked up his cellphone and hit Ziva's speed dial number. It rang off and, as it had done all week, went straight to voicemail. Instead of leaving another message begging her to call him back, Tony simply hung up.

Swallowing hard, he went back to staring at the ceiling. If it was really over between them, he at least deserved to hear more about why she was ending it than what he'd gotten from her in the elevator.

Tony sat up in bed and considered his options. He could wait for her to return to D.C. Gibbs had said Ziva was only supposed to be helping the L.A. team for the week. But there was the kicker -- supposed to be. He knew how easily the assignments could be extended and with Ziva angry at him, he had no doubt she'd agree to stay out west for as long as she could. Or he could force her hand and head to L.A. for a day for that talk she probably didn't want to have.

-------------------------------------------

_Saturday, 1 p.m., Los Angeles_

By the time Ziva awoke, she realized that the pounding she sensed wasn't just a headache -- the aftereffect from all the tequila shots she'd downed the previous night. Rising slowly from her hotel bed, she needed a minute to get her bearings. She silently cursed herself for drinking too much, her Mossad training kicking in as it hit her that she was in no shape whatsoever to take on an enemy at that moment.

Pulling her Glock from beneath her pillow, she lay it beside her on the bed as she fumbled in the covers for her satiny robe. Finding it, she tucked the weapon into the robe's front pocket and made her way to the door. The room seemed to be spinning. Again, she mentally berated herself for having a hangover.

"Who is there?" Ziva asked, summoning her most stern voice. She stifled a yawn, still exhausted and sleepy from the late night out. Her hand positioned on the Glock, she placed another on the door latch. When nobody answered, she again demanded, "WHO is there? Answer! NOW!"

"It's me, Ziva," an almost imperceptible voice replied.

Taking her hand off the gun, she slowly opened the door. They stood, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, before she finally spoke, her voice breaking at the sight of him.

"Tony..."


	10. Only The Lonely Pt 4

Title: Only The Lonely Pt. 4  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Hurt / Comfort  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"Only the lonely can play" - The Motels_

**-------------------- Only The Lonely Pt. 4 ---------------------**  
_  
Saturday, 1 p.m., Los Angeles_

Tony and Ziva stood facing each other in the hotel doorway, both unsure of what to say. Ziva was shocked to see him and, given her condition, somewhat embarrassed as well.

"Ziva..." Tony began, unable to find the right words that could possibly explain everything he'd been feeling over the past week. A jumbled mix of feelings stirred within him at the sight of her and it was all he could not to just take her in his arms, pull her to him and kiss her. But he knew that this time sex wouldn't solve their problems. They needed to do exactly what neither could muster the courage to do at that moment: talk it out.

"Why didn't you call to tell me you were coming out here, Tony?" Ziva said calmly. She had to work at holding back her emotions. Seeing Tony before her like this, so vulnerable and obviously worried about their relationship that he'd flown from D.C. to L.A., touched her deeply. She wanted him back; she didn't want their affair to end and certainly not this way. But she felt as if she couldn't relent from the admittedly harsh position she'd taken. Tony needed to make a real commitment to her, one way or another. She deserved that much from him and if he couldn't give it, then she would have to move on without him. Somehow.

"I didn't know it myself until around five this morning," Tony said softly, his sad green eyes searching her face for a sign of tenderness. At that moment, he found only a mask of bravado. "Ziva? Please let me in? Please?" He knew he was pleading but didn't care.

Ziva swallowed hard and moved aside, brushing her long, black hair back as Tony slowly entered the room. Closing the door gently behind her, she walked to the bed and sat on its edge. Tony stood uncertainly for a moment before gingerly taking a seat beside her. Both looked down at the floor, avoiding each other's eyes.

"I've missed you, Ziva," Tony said, his voice nearly a whisper. "God, I've missed you."

"I have missed you, too, Tony," Ziva answered, trying to steady her voice. "It has been a long week out here... without you."

"I've had a lot of time to think -- about everything you said," Tony replied. "And you're right. I've been a complete jerk to you. Hell, I don't blame you for breaking it off with me. You were too good for me in the first place."

Hearing this, Ziva felt hot tears welling in her eyes. Tony had come to end their relationship. She had said it was over between them; now he was confirming it.

"And you're always gonna be too good for me, Ziva," Tony continued, sighing. "So that means I'm just gonna have to work overtime to prove I'm the right guy for you. Because I love you too damn much to let me ruin everything we have together. There's only you, Ziva. No one else. Not now. Not ever. You're it. You're the one."

Ziva turned to Tony, tears streaming down her face. He took her in his arms, holding her close as he stroked her hair. She clutched him tightly, afraid to let him go.

"Oh, Tony," she sobbed, "I love you. I love you so much -- and I did not want to end ... us. I just..." She caught her breath. "The way you treated me -- it hurt me so. I know you were trying to cover for us but..."

"I was wrong," Tony said, nuzzling Ziva's neck. "Everything I did... was so wrong. Hurting you like that... It'll never happen again, Ziva. I promise. You have my word."

"I believe you," Ziva replied, kissing Tony's forehead. "I trust you, Tony."

"And when we get back, we're telling everyone that we're together," he continued, his lips tasting her bare shoulder as he pulled down her robe. "Damn the consequences." Breathing hard, he pushed Ziva down onto the bed. She hastily undid his shirt buttons, caressing his chest hair as he reclined beside her. She pulled Tony down to her, searching his mouth with her tongue, kissing him hungrily as he shook off his shirt.

"It was never over, Tony," Ziva said breathlessly, as Tony's hands made their way down her body, pushing her silken robe aside. "Never."

"Never will be, Ziva," was his husky reply before nothing more needed to be said between them for the rest of the day -- and on into the night.


	11. Lovely Tonight

Title: Lovely Tonight  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Humor  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"You are lovely tonight / You dear / Will guide me into the morning light" - Joshua Radin_  
**  
-------------------- Lovely Tonight ---------------------**

**_[Santa Monica Beach]_**

Once-mighty waves, now having expended all their energy to make it onshore, rushed to cover Tony and Ziva's feet and then, just as suddenly as they'd reached their destination, found themselves pulled back out to the ocean where they'd come from. The cycle went on and on, and as Tony dug his toes deeper into the sand, he studied the water that didn't return to sea collecting in small salty pools around his skin. Ziva, her long, black curly hair pulled back into a harsh, thick ponytail to keep the ocean breeze from further tousling what she already considered a nearly uncontrollable mass, snuggled against Tony's right arm. Together, they'd been sitting on the beach, watching the waves nearly all afternoon.

"Not a bad hangover cure, hm?" Tony asked, breaking what had been a comfortable silence.

"Not at all," Ziva answered, closing her eyes and breathing in the fresh evening air. "I'm feeling much better. This," she purred, "was a good idea."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, fixing his green eyes on a large wave rolling towards the shore that had yet to break. "Wish it didn't have to end. It's nice here." The wave reached its apex, curled and crashed into itself, becoming a mass of green mixed with white foam. "Beats D.C."

"I have enjoyed Los Angeles," Ziva said, "but it is time to go home." She sighed. "I will miss... this -- being able to come out here to the beach and just relax. The ocean is lovely."

"You mean the Potomac doesn't do it for you?" Tony joked, smirking. Ziva snickered along with him. He leaned to kiss her on the cheek. "Well, guess we'll have to make our vacation plans next summer for somewhere that's got plenty of sun, sand and surf, huh?"

"Sun and sand, I am used to. Israel has plenty." Ziva frowned, thinking. "Surf, however? That, I am not sure is up my valley."

"Alley," Tony softly corrected, his eyes now focusing on the coming sunset.

"All the maxing up boards..." Ziva continued.

"Waxing," Tony said mindlessly.

"... and banging ten," she went on.

"Hanging ten," Tony replied. The pinks and oranges of the sunset had transfixed him.

"But shooting the girl -- now THAT part sounds interesting!" Ziva, satisfied that she'd found at least one area of surfing she figured she could handle easily, smiled contentedly and joined Tony in watching the sunset. He squinted, unsure if he had heard Ziva correctly, realized that he had and decided not to bother offering up the right turn of phrase. _Shooting the curl... shooting the girl_, he thought. _Ahhh, what the hell? Either way it involves shooting and she'll be happy._

"Remind me to send all the wahines a BOLO before we make our reservations, Sweet Cheeks," Tony half-whispered as the daylight began to fade.

"A BOLO, Tony? For what?" Ziva eyed him curiously.

"For you, my ninja," Tony answered, his eyes still on the now-fading sunset. Without facing her, he pulled Ziva close to his side, again kissing her tenderly. "Your powers on land are unmatched. I fear what destruction you could bring in the open waters, given a longboard and some Sex Wax."

"Wahines? And what is Sex Wax, Tony?" Ziva inquired, cuddling against him for warmth. "I assume this is used to surf, yes?"

"Among other things," Tony replied, pulling Ziva into a long, deep kiss as the sun finally lost its battle with the horizon.


	12. Flesh For Fantasy

Title: Flesh For Fantasy  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Drama  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"Hangin' out for a body shop at night / Ain't it strange what we do to feel alright?" - Billy Idol_

**-------------------- Flesh For Fantasy ---------------------**

As expected, Gibbs took the news that Tony and Ziva were seeing each other in his usual stride.

Poorly.

He pulled them into the Conference Room. He screamed and yelled. His face turned several odd shades of red. ("Cerise," Abby later thoughtfully corrected.) He demanded an explanation. He said breaking Rule No. 12 was unacceptable.

He told them if they brought their grab-ass into the office, they'd both find out what happened in his basement when he was between boats AND bourbon.

Then he hugged Ziva and told Tony "Don't screw it up, DiNozzo" and, exiting the elevator, took his coffee from his desk and left for a meeting with Vance. Tony worried for a minute when Vance called Ziva upstairs to join the meeting but when she emerged, smirking in that way of hers and greeting Tony with a sexy wink, he smiled broadly and relaxed. Everything was OK. It was all going to be fine.

And so, when Tony got the bad news an hour later, all he could think to himself was, _Well, it was nice while it lasted._

-------------------------------------------

"A strip club? A STRIP CLUB?!!! What the HELL kind of WEIRDO assignment IS that, Ziva?!!!" Tony leaned over Ziva's desk, huffing furiously upon hearing the words come from his girlfriend's mouth. He put his lips close to her ear and whispered, "Gibbs and Vance think I'm just gonna let you go peel down for a bunch of sailors on shore leave? That's crazy. No way!"

"We are trying to catch a murderer, Tony," Ziva said unemotionally. "One of the strippers was found dead from an overdose of drugs in a motel nearby -- naked, bound and gagged in the bed, hands tied to the bedposts -- a night of sex that apparently went horribly wrong. A sailor who had participated in the club's Amateur Night. That makes it an NCIS case. We are involved."

"But why do YOU have to go undercover as a STRIPPER? Hell, 'undercover' isn't even the right word for it!" Tony folded his arms across his chest, glowering. "There won't BE any 'cover'! You're NOT doin' it!"

"You are putting your boot down?" Ziva asked, peering at the case file.

"My foot -- putting my foot down," Tony corrected, fuming. "And HELL yeah, I am! You are NOT gonna STRIP at that CLUB -- PERIOD!"

"You are right, Tony," Ziva said nonchalantly, turning a page in the file. "I am not going to strip at that club."

Tony straightened his tie, surprised that Ziva wasn't fighting him on this.

"You're not? I mean... _right!_ You're not."

"I am not," Ziva agreed. "But _you_ are."

-------------------------------------------

"So," Ziva said, sidling up to the bar as she summoned the attractive female bartender over, "tell me... When does the show begin? I was told by one of the women in my office that this is the best place in town to see some prime meatcake." She gave the bartender a conspiratorial wink.

"Meatcake?" The bartender, confused, frowned at Ziva. "Ohhhhh... BEEFCAKE, you mean!" She grinned wickedly "Right on, honey."

Looking towards a small raised stage across the room, Ziva asked, "The sign outside says this is Amateur Night. You allow men who are not professionals to take the stage and show off their considerable ... " Ziva paused, a wry smile playing at her lips, "... assets?" The bartender, polishing a set of drink glasses with a small towel, snickered.

"Sweetie, I let them show off their assets... AND their front-sets." Narrowing her eyes as she stared at the stage, the bartender licked her lips. "We're all in for a real treat tonight -- because the hunk I booked? Is HOT."

"Really?" Ziva asked. "He is one of the pros? Or the amateurs?"

"Total amateur," the bartender said. "Came in saying he saw our sign out front and wanted to give it a shot. Calls himself -- get this, honey, it's hilarious... Tony Magnum, P.I. -- Privates Investigator. Oh my GOD, can you believe what a CHEESY fake name that is? But he's so gorgeous I had to tell him he could, you know, perform tonight."

"Yes. That name is quite... cheesy. Tell me the truth," Ziva questioned, leaning in closely, chuckling into her drink, "Do you... audition the men yourself?" The bartender laughed.

"I wish," she said. "Nah... I just let the boys get up there and, uh, let it all hang out. Truth is, I'm never sure what I'm gonna get. But tonight," she said dreamily, "this guy -- he's a stud. The girls are gonna LOVE him. I think I'm gonna get REAL lucky."

"Yes," Ziva agreed. "I certainly hope so."

-------------------------------------------

"WHOOOOOOO-HOOOOO-HOO! Ladies, LADIES! Settle DOWN!," the bartender, who also served as emcee, shouted into the microphone from the stage to the rowdy all-female crowd. "Amateur Night is about to begin!" The ladies hooted and screamed. "But first, the rules!" The women booed. "HEY! C'mon now... We gotta keep these boys SAFE! After all, they ARE outnumbered!" The women hooted again. "OK, OK! The rules: The rules are... THERE ARE NO RULES! LET AMATEUR NIGHT BEGIN!" The crowd roared, the room went dark and loud rock music suddenly kicked up from the speakers. "Ladies, let's ALL give a NICE, SWEET WELCOME to tonight's amateur PERFORMER... TONY MAGNUM, P.I. -- PRIVATES INVESTIGATOR!" Whistles and squeals erupted from the women, who began chanting "TO-NY! TO-NY! TO-NY! TO-NY!" as the spotlight hit the stage where Tony was to make his entrance.

Ziva, sitting at a table right in front of the stage, winced. She was already getting a headache from the noise, although the whiskey shots she'd downed hadn't affected her at all. She focused on the spotlit area of the stage, anticipating Tony's arrival. She should've been jealous, she thought, but she wasn't. It seemed strange, even to Ziva, but then she remembered -- Tony, oddly enough, was completely averse to this assignment. She'd imagined he'd love the idea of stripping in front of a roomful of women but when he'd learned he was to go undercover as a male stripper, he'd gotten angry. Nervous, even. Ziva had teased him about the assignment all week but she'd stopped when Tony had looked at her and, uncharacteristically and quietly said, "Give it a rest, will ya?"

Now, with the loud music, the room full of lusty, mostly drunken women and the spotlight on the stage where Tony was set to strip, Ziva felt uncomfortable herself that the two of them were forced to take part in this spectacle. But she reminded herself that many young men did so as a way to earn extra money for college or to simply make ends meet -- and that one of them, a young sailor strapped for cash, had ended up naked and drugged to his death in a seedy motel bedroom nearby. That was why they were there -- to catch his killer and save, perhaps, another young man's life.

And then, Tony appeared in the spotlight. Wearing sunglasses, a "Magnum P.I."-style red Hawaiian button down short-sleeved shirt that was open at the top, showing off his chest hair, and tight-fitting khaki shorts that were exceptionally short, Tony strutted onto the stage to the beat of the music and put his hand above his shades, surveying the room. The women hooted "MAG-NUM! MAG-NUM! MAG-NUM! MAG-NUM!" Ziva rolled her eyes.

Without warning, Tony ripped open the shirt to expose his chest and stomach. The women screamed. Ziva sat back in her chair, smirking. Tony worked the shirt off his shoulders one by one as he danced to the music, twirled it around a few times and tossed it into the crowd. Ziva, hit head-on by the shirt, pulled it off her face and, frowning, folded it primly, putting it in her lap. She narrowed her eyes at Tony, who had spotted her up front and was now down on his knees right in front of her on the stage. He ran his hands across his chest hair, then down his stomach to the button of his shorts. Grinning at Ziva, he slowly undid the button on his shorts and tantalizingly ran his hand up and down in front of his groin, unzipping and zipping his shorts to tease her. Rising to stand, he finally unzipped the shorts, letting them fall at his feet, to reveal the tight, skimpy Speedos that remained the only clothing covering his body. He kicked the shorts towards Ziva. They landed in her lap, joining his shirt. She folded them as well, fixing her eyes on Tony as he gyrated with the music in his Speedos, the crowd of women screaming "TAKE IT OFF!" with every rotation of his hips. Finally, as the song was ending, Tony turned seductively, looking at the women over his shoulder and gyrated his Speedo-clad rear end at full tilt before turning back to blow them a kiss as he ran off the stage. The music stopped, the room again went dark and the women hollered "EN-CORE! EN-CORE! GET NUDE! GET NUDE! GET NUDE!" Ziva, disgusted at the scene, nevertheless did her best to scan the darkened room for anyone looking or acting suspicious. Finding this futile, she opted to find Tony backstage and touch base with him. She slipped past the crowd of drunken women, sidling through a nondescript door leading backstage.

Once there, she found... nobody.

Tony was gone.

Ziva swallowed hard. How could Tony already be gone? He'd only been off the stage five minutes tops. Something had gone wrong. She didn't like the feeling she had -- that Tony was in real danger.

And she had no idea where he was.

-------------------------------------------

"Nice work tonight... stud," the woman said, tightening the ligatures around Tony's wrists. Too dizzy to fight back, Tony groaned in response, his mouth gagged with a small towel. "I don't know what it is about Amateur Night," she continued, now tightening the mouth gag, "but you boys off the street just bring out the animal in me." Tony moaned again, trying to move his arms. He felt as if he would black out any moment. The woman produced a syringe, injecting Tony's upper arm. Tony felt a sudden warm rush all through his body and his eyes rolled back for a second. He now felt even more dizzy than before.

"These things, though?" the woman said dismissively, snapping the band of Tony's Speedos as she placed a knife against his throat, "Will HAVE to go." Tony's body jerked in spasm at the feel of the cold knife on his skin. She ran the blade down his chest and his stomach, flattening it against his groin. "Let's just... cut them off," she whispered into Tony's ear. Tony tried to scream for help but the sound was muffled by the towel gagging him. The room was spinning and everything began to blur. _Ziva_, he thought helplessly as he blacked out, _help me..._

-------------------------------------------

The first person Tony saw when he woke up was the nurse standing over him, scribbling something onto a clipboard.

The second was Ziva, who sat beside the bed, holding his hand.

"Look who's finally awake," the nurse said softly, smiling at Ziva. "I'll be back a bit later, dear." She left and Tony, who had a severe headache, looked over at Ziva. She reached over to stroke his hair.

"Good afternoon, my love," Ziva said quietly. "You slept well?" Her dark eyes were puffy even though she smiled shyly at Tony. She had obviously been crying.

"Ziva," Tony moaned, "What... happened?"

"You nearly became Amateur Night's second casualty," Ziva said, caressing Tony's cheek. "After your... act, I went backstage to find you. I could not; you were gone. So I went to find the bartender who booked you for the night. She also was missing."

"Mmmm... yeah," Tony murmured. "Her. She came backstage when I was done... Said she was there to make sure I got what I deserved for my performance... I turned around to finish zipping up my pants and she musta hit me with something... I conked out... Don't remember a thing except feeling something hit me in the back of the head -- hard..."

"She knocked you out with the gun she keeps behind the bar. Then she took you to the same motel where our dead sailor was discovered and she gave you an injection of painkillers. As it turns out, she bartends in the evenings -- to earn extra money when she is not working as a medical assistant. That is how she had access to the painkiller she gave you."

"But how come that sailor died from an overdose and I didn't?" Tony asked, closing his eyes. His head throbbed.

"Because I did not find her attempting to sexually assault him in the motel room the night he died," Ziva said, clenching her jaw in anger. "She admitted to us that when he finished his Amateur Night act, she tried to get him to have sex with her. He refused because he had a girlfriend that he planned to marry. Sadly, he was so desperate to earn money for an engagement ring that he felt compelled to strip at the club's Amateur Night -- which he'd heard paid quite well -- so that he could buy his girlfriend the ring and ask for her hand. And so, when he refused to sleep with the bartender, she knocked him out with the gun, put him into her car, drove him to the motel, tied him to the bed, gagged him and drugged him so that he could not resist her. She forced herself on him, Tony. Later, when the first dose of drugs began to wear off, she gave him another injection. But she miscalculated the dosage and he died."

Ziva looked down. "That is what she planned to do to you as well. Only she never had the chance because I remembered the motel and decided to check there. The owner said a young woman was the last person to check in. So I went to the room, broke down the door and found her -- and you -- there." She took a deep breath. "And I made certain she did not harm you. Anymore."

Tony took her hand.

"Ziva... she didn't..." he paused uncomfortably, "... I mean, I don't remember anything after she tied me up and gave me that shot..."

"No," Ziva said, forcing a slight smile. "She did not touch you -- in any way, Tony. I arrived just in time. Fortunately."

Tony closed his eyes, groaning.

"Y'know, I didn't WANT to strip like that -- not for anyone but you, Z. Everything I did in that act out there? I was just focusing on you and pretending I was... taking it off just for you. Nobody else. I don't want anyone else seeing me... like that, Ziva." Tony blushed, embarrassed. Ziva winked at him, smiling to let him know she understood. "You know what they say," he said, sighing. "You save someone's life, you're responsible for them forever. So it looks like you're stuck with me, Sweet Cheeks." Tony smiled weakly at Ziva. She kissed him gently.

"I will always be there to save your sausage, Tony," Ziva said tenderly, stroking his hand.

"Bacon," Tony softly corrected. "But you can save my sausage anytime. I'm glad you've got my back, Ziva."

"And your front, my little furry mutt," Ziva purred, holding up a skimpy pair of swimwear, snapping them back and forth suggestively with a wink, "And your Speedos."


	13. Night And Day

Title: Night And Day  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Drama  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: While going through some old family letters, Tony learns that in November 1942 his grandfather, a soldier in WWII's Operation Torch, had a passionate one-night stand with a beautiful Jewish spy.

**-------------------- Night And Day ---------------------**

A chilly early autumn rain pelted the Washington D.C. streets, ensuring that the normal weekend crowds were nowhere to be found. This included Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David, who had planned a Saturday picnic at the nearby park. As thunder rumbled, lightning illuminated the sky and grey clouds kept the city under a blanket of darkness, Tony and Ziva lounged about in their apartment.

Ziva lay on the sofa, engrossed in a thick hardcover book detailing the ancient war techniques of the Trojans; Tony sat on the floor next to where she lay, his back against the sofa, looking through a small box of various items that he'd brought out of the hall closet. Ziva lovingly stroked his hair as she read. Tony, wearing his favorite Ohio State sweatshirt, rifled through the box, bringing up a packet of old, yellowing letters. He sniffed them, frowned at the musty odor, and carefully began untying the string neatly holding them in a bundle. Ziva closed her book and watched Tony, continuing to caress his hair. He peered at each old letter, one by one, narrowing his eyes as he tried to read the immaculate cursive handwriting on the envelopes.

"The letters," Ziva said after a short while, "Who are they from, Tony?"

"My Grandfather DiNozzo," he replied, cautiously opening one and removing the enclosed letter. "Papa Tony fought in World War II -- met General Patton once when he was part of an Allied group of forces that raided Casablanca in 1942 and took out the Nazi-backed French in North Africa. Operation Torch -- he got a medal for that."

"Sounds fascinating," Ziva said.

"Yeah, but he never talked much about it," Tony answered, scanning the letter. "Anyone ever asked about Casablanca, he got real quiet and said they went over there and did their job. That was all you could get out of Papa Tony on it -- no war stories."

"Papa Tony?" Ziva asked, smirking. "You are named after him?"

"Yep, he was the first Anthony D. DiNozzo." Tony put the letter down, dug in the box and produced an old black and white photo that, like the letters, was yellowing. "That's him when he was in the Army - 1942. Same year he met Patton in North Africa."

"Handsome man," Ziva purred. "You look exactly like him."

"Heh... Yeah, well, the good looks weren't all I, uh, inherited from Papa Tony," Tony said, grinning wickedly. "He was the ultimate DiNozzo man -- women couldn't keep their hands off him. Drove my grandma crazy the way chicks came onto him, even when he was an old guy. But he and Grandma stuck it out. They had my Uncle Vincenzo and my old man a few years after the war -- just had the white picket fence, station wagon, a dog, the normal '50s American life. Another reason I don't know why my dad turned out to be... well... like he is. Rest of my family's crazy, y'know. But Papa Tony was a good guy." Tony handed Ziva another photo of his grandfather.

"Who is the woman with him in this picture? Is that your grandmother?" Ziva frowned, studying the woman's features. "She reminds me of someone -- her eyes." Ziva took in the details of the photo. Tony's grandmother, young and attractive, clutched his grandfather's waist in the picture as if she were unwilling to let her husband leave her side. Despite the photo's graying tint, Ziva could tell that the woman had light brunette hair and blue eyes. Tony's grandfather looked, frankly, miserable. While his wife offered the camera a smug simper, he stared straight ahead, giving the impression that his thoughts were somewhere far away.

"Yeah, that's Grandma. She was... well, there was... uh... no one like _her_. Always kind of clingy with Papa Tony, y'know? Like she was afraid she was gonna lose him or something." Tony frowned. "OK, I know I shouldn't say this because she was my grandma but... she was always keepin' tabs on Papa Tony -- always wanted to know where he was and what he was doin' and who he was with ALL the TIME. Poor guy never got a minute's peace, my Uncle Vincenzo said. And if Papa Tony didn't give her her way about something? She'd get all dramatic and start whining or crying or doing whatever it took to make sure he did what she wanted. She was real jealous of him -- wanted him under her thumb. I guess he loved her ... sort of... but he never looked happy to me. I never saw him act like he was glad to be married to her or like he was in love."

Tony paused, grimacing. "One time, when I was a kid, I heard my dad say that Papa Tony only married Grandma because he had to: She got pregnant. And it sounded like grandma got Papa Tony drunk in order to sleep with him in the first place, according to my old man. He said Papa Tony had kinda tried to tell Grandma he wasn't interested; that he'd met some chick overseas during the war and he was planning on trying to find her. But Grandma wasn't gonna take 'no' for an answer." Tony shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's true, maybe not. My family has some wacko stories, so..."

_Jeanne_, Ziva thought to herself. _Tony's grandmother looks like Jeanne._ Staring again at the photo, Ziva noted that the two bore a striking resemblance to one another. _Yes... their eyes,_ she thought. She sighed and kissed the top of Tony's head. "May I see one of your letters? I admit I am curious."

Tony chuckled. "Sure," he said, handing one up to Ziva. "Knock yourself out. If you can read the handwriting."

Ziva took the letter and studied the envelope. "Tony," she said, "this letter is _to_ your grandfather -- and it has no return address. But it is postmarked from Cairo."

"Hmmm..." Tony mused, raising an eyebrow as he took one of his grandfather's letters from the bundle. "Maybe Papa Tony made a couple friends over in Casablanca that he stayed in touch with."

"Or perhaps only one special friend," Ziva said slowly, her dark eyes moving over the words in the letter, which -- after recounting an intense past sexual encounter between the letter writer (obviously a woman, Ziva gleaned, given that she spoke of her breasts) and Tony's grandfather in erotic detail -- promised undying love to _"you, my darling, my first lover -- my Anthony."_ Signed only with the letter "H," the woman had said that she was marrying a soldier from her native land and would no longer be able to write. But the memory of her night with Tony's grandfather was ever-present and, although she did not love the man she was to marry, she would sustain herself in her marriage by recalling _"our single night of love, Anthony, for the remainder of my lifetime. Whenever I must please my husband, I will, in my mind's eye, be pleasuring you as I did in Casablanca. It is your handsome face, your strong body I will see before me, my love -- always. You have the gift that I left you to remember me by. And you will always have my heart."_

-------------------------------------------

_**November 1942 - Morocco**_

_When the fighting was finished and Operation Torch a huge success for the Allied forces, U.S. Army Sergeant Anthony DiNozzo managed to find time for one night in Casablanca before he and his fellow troops were to move on to their next assignment._

_He'd been taking in the scene at a local bar for a couple of hours when a small, slender woman entered. Her long, curly black hair fell over her bare shoulders, accenting her olive skin. She wore a form-fitting dress, complimenting her curvy figure. Anthony couldn't take his eyes off her. He was staring, he knew, but was unable to stop himself. The woman's dark brown eyes met his. She walked slowly, deliberately towards him. He downed his drink, suddenly sweating._

_The woman took a seat at the bar next to him. She tossed her thick, dark hair back and fixed him with a sultry stare. He shifted uncomfortably on his barstool, swallowing hard. A sexy smirk played at the woman's lips._

_"You are... waiting for someone?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Anthony._

_"Not anymore," he replied, trying to keep his cool. He had never been so immediately attracted to a woman before. He found it both curiously frightening and intensely arousing. She had an accent that he couldn't place. But he liked it._

_"You were... waiting for someone?" the woman asked, continuing her game of interrogation. Anthony smiled._

_"No," he said huskily. "You're here now. You got here just in time."_

_"In time for what?" the woman queried, winking._

_"Your call," Anthony said, leaning towards her. His green eyes sparkled with desire._

_Suddenly, the woman's dark eyes lost their good humor and her face turned deadly serious._

_"I do not like games," she snapped, starting to leave. Anthony reflexively reached for her arm. The woman twisted his arm behind his back and he groaned in agony. She was strong. And obviously dangerous. "Now you will tell me what your business is here," she whispered into his ear, "or I will get it out of you by other means. YOUR call."_

_Anthony winced in pain. "Please... lemme go, OK, lady? I just thought... unnnhh... you were lookin' for... ahhh... a date tonight... aggghhh... That's all... unnnggghh..." The woman gave his arm one final harsh twist and let him loose._

_"You are not Elijah?" the woman asked, staring hard at Anthony's features._

_"No," he answered, "I'm Anthony DiNozzo - Sergeant, U.S. Army. Who's Elijah? Who're you?"_

_"Forgive me," the woman said, pursing her lips, "I was in error." She turned again to leave. Anthony blocked her way, moving to stand before her._

_"Hey, look... I'm not mad." He grinned broadly, showing off his teeth. "You, uh... you wanna get a drink? Unless you gotta meet this... Elijah guy." Anthony looked down sadly, then brought his eyes back up to meet the woman's. He put on his best "sad" face. The woman tried to look stern but wasn't able to keep from smiling._

_"One drink," she said, smirking at Anthony. "I will now let YOU twist my wrist, Sergeant DiNozzo."_

_"Anthony," he said. "And it's your arm -- twist your arm," he corrected, "kinda like you just did with me." They both chuckled. He pulled out her barstool and she once again took her seat. He joined her, re-taking his place at the bar. He motioned for the bartender, who nodded that he'd be there in a moment. "So..." Anthony said slowly, "you know my name. Do I get the pleasure of finding out yours?"_

_"Hannah," the woman replied, studying his handsome face with her dark brown eyes. "My name is Hannah."_

-------------------------------------------

"Huh..." Tony said, looking over the letter Ziva had read. "Papa Tony had a one-nighter in Casablanca. I'm not surprised. Like I said, he was a ladies' man."

"It sounds as if he fell in love with this woman," Ziva replied. "And she with him."

Tony studied what appeared to be a journal of his grandfather's. "Hey, Ziva, listen to this -- it's from February 1943. My grandpa's journal, looks like. Didn't know he ever had one."

He continued, reading aloud: _"Valentine's Day. The guys in the barracks said they've got a running bet on how many chicks I can bag tonight at the USO Club. There's a big dance there and everyone's going. Lotta women supposed to be at the place. But I'm not going to the club. Don't feel like it. Haven't been able to forget her. Think about her -- about what happened between us -- every night. Can't hardly sleep because of thinking about it. Think about H. all the time. It's gotta stop because I'm never gonna see her again. Tried dating a couple girls since that night but I don't feel a thing. I'm in love with H. -- that's all there is to it -- and I'll never love anyone else. How the HELL did this happen to me? Why'd I have to get mixed up with a crazy chick half a world away? I bet that guy she was supposed to meet at the bar was her boyfriend. Or is now._

_It wasn't just sex. It was love. REAL love. I loved her. I still love her._

_Maybe someday I'll go get her, bring her back, marry her. God, I miss you, H. I hope you still miss me, too."_

"Oh, Tony..." Ziva said softly, "that is so sad. He was in love -- with a woman he met during the war. And they could not be together. I wonder what happened?"

"I don't know," Tony said. "But my grandpa must've really tucked these letters -- and this journal -- away. Because if Grandma had found them, she'd have thrown them out. Would've made her furious to know he was..."

"... in love," Ziva finished for him. "With someone else."

"All his life, I guess," Tony said, sighing. "Poor guy. Must've been hell for him, living a lie in his marriage. Guess that's why he never talked about Operation Torch."

"Tony," Ziva stroked his shoulder and nodded towards a small wooden jewelry holder in the box. "What is that?"

Tony took the little box out and opened it. A surprised look crossed his face and he handed the box up to Ziva. She studied its contents and carefully lifted out a shiny silver necklace.

"The Star of David," she said softly. "You know, my grandmother had one that she lost during the war. She told me gave it to a friend -- so that person would never forget her. It was she who gave me this necklace, you know." Ziva put the old necklace gently back in its box, snapped it shut and looked at her own Star of David necklace. "She said I should never take this off -- unless I met my soulmate, perhaps, and thought I should always keep him close no matter the distance between us by offering him my Star as a sign of my heritage -- and of our love."

"What about your grandfather?" Tony asked. "He the 'friend' she gave her necklace to?"

"No," Ziva said, frowning slightly. "He already had his own when they met."

-------------------------------------------

_"Hannah..." Anthony gasped, barely able to catch his breath as she clutched him tightly to her, the feel of her lips caressing him searing into his skin, "Hannah..." There was so much he wanted to say, so many emotions he was feeling right then that he desperately wanted to communicate to her, but he could only moan her name as they made love in the small hotel bedroom with a passion more intense than he'd ever known._

_He'd been with many girls back home -- Sgt. Anthony DiNozzo had a reputation both on and off the base as a wolf -- but Hannah... this girl -- this woman -- was nothing like them. She was bold -- he hadn't had to try picking her up; their tryst had been her doing and she'd made it clear from the start that she wanted him as a lover. She was fearless -- he was both impressed and intimidated by what he'd learned was her line of work: espionage (who knew what else?) and intelligence-gathering. And she was experienced -- her skills as a covert agent appeared unparalleled and, as he was now finding to his immense pleasure, she had no inhibitions in the bedroom. Pleasing him was pleasing her._

_As the hours of the long night wore on, Hannah and Anthony, sweaty and locked in a heated physical union that neither was willing to break, swore their love to one another over and over. Looking up into Hannah's dark eyes as she gently rocked his hips against hers, Anthony let himself wonder -- just for a moment -- if they could possibly find some way to be together when this night ended. He closed his eyes and had a vision of Hannah in a white wedding dress... himself in a tuxedo..._

_Then he opened his sparkling green eyes, his smoky gaze meeting Hannah's, and suddenly lifted himself up from the bed to a sitting position in order to finish off this round of their lovemaking with special intensity. Hannah cried out, burying her head against Anthony's shoulder, as his strong arms pulled her tight against him._

_Finally, they reluctantly parted, both completely exhausted and wholly satisfied. Hannah rested her head on Anthony's shoulder, stroking his chest hair, as he tenderly kissed her forehead._

_"I love you, Hannah," Anthony whispered. "I love you. I want to be with you. I don't wanna let you go."_

_"Oh, Anthony," Hannah whispered back, caressing his cheek. "I love you, too. I have never loved a man before tonight -- you are my first love. My perfect, first love. I wish... I wish we could be together always." Anthony took her in his arms and they kissed deeply._

_Sleep came near dawn, taking the pair in its grasp quickly and quietly._

_In the morning, only the sun greeted Anthony when he woke. Hannah was gone. But something lay on his chest. Looking down, he noticed the light glinting off a silvery object. Holding the object up, he stared at a Star of David hanging on a thin silver chain. It was Hannah's necklace. Anthony brought the Star of David to his lips, kissed it lovingly, and closed his eyes. Then he put the chain around his neck, got out of the bed he'd made love with Hannah in for one unforgettable night and headed for the bathroom to wash up._


	14. Make Believe

Title: Make Believe  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Drama  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Tony wonders about his grandfather's lifelong secret love for the woman he met in WWII and how it impacted his father's upbringing.

**-------------------- Make Believe ---------------------**

Now that he'd learned of his grandfather's wartime affair, one that Sergeant Anthony DiNozzo had kept secret his entire life, Tony wanted to know more about the man he'd called Papa Tony.

He remembered that Papa Tony had been the one who instilled in him his all-encompassing love for Ohio State and, especially, Buckeyes football and basketball. No Saturday went by that Little Anthony, as the old man called him, and Papa Tony didn't watch the Buckeyes on TV, going to war on the gridiron. Somehow Papa Tony managed to ignore Grandma Joan's constant nagging insistence that he stop watching "that silly game" and do yardwork or fix something in the house or any other piddling errand she wanted taken care of. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard to little Tony, who feared her, but Papa Tony simply hugged his grandson closer to him whenever his wife started in on him and focused on the strong young men running, passing and blocking in Ohio State red and silver before them on the television set.

After each game, his Uncle Vincenzo, a butcher on Long Island, would call Papa Tony and ask if the Buckeyes won. Then Papa Tony would put the phone up to Little Anthony's ear and his uncle, who he'd met only once but had really liked, would regale him with tales of New York City and how much fun they'd have when little Tony came to visit.

"You, me and Papa Tony," he'd say, "we'll have a blast, kid. Coney Island, a Yankees game, the works!" Then he'd sound somewhat sad, adding, "Hey, tell your old man that Vinny says hi, OK? That his big bro misses him? Be cool if he came with us, y'know?"

Tony's family was strange and he'd done his best, as an adult, to steer clear of them. But after reading his grandfather's journal and the letter from the mysterious woman, known only to him as "H," he wondered if things might have been different.  
_  
Another time, another place_, Tony thought drowsily as the rain continued beating against the windowpane. Tony felt sorry for Papa Tony, who, unlike him, hadn't been lucky enough to enjoy life with the woman he loved. In the kitchen, Tony heard Ziva humming to herself as she flipped the pages of a cookbook. As he dropped off to sleep, he imagined himself in Papa Tony's place back in 1942 Casablanca -- and Ziva as the mystery woman...

-------------------------------------------

_**November 1947 - Columbus, Ohio**_

_Anthony DiNozzo downed another beer at the Buckeye Bar, lamenting the season-ending 21-0 loss to Ohio State's hated archrival, Michigan. The '47 season was a nightmare for the Buckeyes, with the team going 2-6-1, and the mood in the bar -- and around campus -- was ugly. Anthony had used his G.I. Bill from his World War II service to enroll at Ohio State, the school he'd dreamed of attending since he was a boy growing up in the shadow of the campus as a Columbus 'townie' where his father toiled 12-plus hours a day pouring hot metal at the Buckeye Steel Castings Company. The memory of his father further depressed Anthony, who signaled the bartender for another beer._

_Vincenzo DiNozzo had come to America determined to make a good life for himself and, in his own way, he had. But he didn't want Anthony to spend his life working in the dangerous steel industry and so, when the boy was old enough, he'd made Anthony enlist in the Army where he could travel and have the opportunity to advance in the armed services. Besides, it had been 1930 when Anthony turned 18, the Great Depression, and jobs were nowhere to be found. Vincenzo, then just past 40, worried he'd lose his own job. Anthony's mother had died when he was 10, leaving father and son to care for one another. Now that the boy was gone, the father was alone for the first time in his life. And when, in November 1932, Buckeye Steel had to let Vincenzo go, Anthony found that he perhaps wasn't as surprised as he should have been to get the telegram telling him his father had been found dead in the single room he rented in a Columbus row house. "Heart attack," the telegram read. Vincenzo was 44._

_And so, in November 1942, five years earlier, Anthony marked the 10-year anniversary of his father's death by storming the Moroccan beaches near Casablanca with Allied forces as a U.S. Army sergeant in Operation Torch, aimed at defeating pro-Nazi French forces in the region. The mission had been an incredible success and Gen. Patton had given his men one night in Casablanca for celebration. Anthony spent his evening drinking in a bar, toasting his father's memory. Until a young, exotic Jewish woman -- Hannah, she called herself -- sat beside him at the bar._

_Then Anthony's life changed forever. That night, he met his soulmate -- the woman he was meant to spend his life with -- and in one passionate night of lovemaking, he bonded emotionally with Hannah. By the morning, she was gone. And he was never the same again._

_But now, back in Columbus, he was in the Buckeye Bar, nearly fall-down drunk, and unable to get his father's death off his mind. And he spent every day, every minute thinking of Hannah and their night together. Anthony felt as miserable as he ever had in his life. He wished he, too, were dead._

_"Anthony?" A voice gratingly familiar to him cut through the din of the bar room. Bleary-eyed, he tried to focus on the face of the woman speaking. "Anthony... I looked for you at the fraternity party after the game. The boys said you were probably here." She glanced around the bar with utter disdain. "How much have you had to drink?" Her voice took on a bitter, pointed tone._

_"Not enough," Anthony replied thickly. He lifted the cold mug the bartender had just put before him but the woman put her hand on his, stopping him from taking a drink. Her nails dug into his skin, hurting him. He frowned at her, angry that she was insinuating herself into what had been his personal time. "Joan," he said angrily, "Back off." Then, trying to be something of a gentleman to this girl who he didn't really care for but who always seemed to know exactly where he was and what he was doing, he added, "Please."_

_Joan didn't flinch. Instead, she tightened her grip on Anthony's hand, her nails digging deeper and harder into his skin. Her eyes narrowed. She glared at him, her light blue eyes glowing with fury at his unwillingness to obey her._

_"No, Anthony," she insisted, pushing his hand down so that the beer sloshed over the mug onto both their hands. She grimaced at the feel of it on her skin. "You're leaving. Now. You're coming with me." Seeing that Anthony's only reaction was to stare straight ahead in a futile attempt to ignore her, she pressed against him and hissed into his ear. "You are going to get UP from that barstool right NOW and WE are walking OUT of this DISGUSTING PIT! Do NOT fight me on this, do you UNDERSTAND ME?!!!" She dug her nails that much deeper into the skin of his hand for emphasis, clenching her jaw._

_Anthony continued sitting and staring, silently feeling sick at the sensation of Joan's hot breath in his ear and the feel of her body against his. He thought of using all the strength he had to wrench his hand away. He was stronger than Joan. He could easily push her away. But from the moment she'd met him in a class they'd had together, she had been obsessed with him. He could make her let him go tonight. But she'd find him again. She always found him. His frat brothers joked that she meant to get him. At first he'd laughed it off but as the months wore on, he realized it was true. There was no escaping her, not even after he'd told her that he was in love with a woman he'd met overseas and was going to meet her in a few months so they could be married. It was only his dream, the one he had of finding Hannah and building a life with her, but it felt so real and right when he'd voiced it that even he'd bought into it. Joan had slapped him, said she hated him and stalked off. He thought he was finally rid of her. But the next day, she'd returned, crying that she was sorry and nobody but Anthony understood her and wouldn't he please at least be her friend? Then the cycle began anew. He hated Joan. He didn't want to. He hadn't started out hating her. He'd only ever been polite to her. But she'd made him grow to despise her. She just wouldn't let him be._

_"Yeah," Anthony finally said, his voice a pained whisper. "I hear you... Joan."_

-------------------------------------------

_**August 1953 - Coney Island, New York**_

_"Anthony!" Joan snapped, "Don't feed him that hot dog! He's only three!" She yanked the toddler from her husband's arms, causing the baby to cry out in fear._

_"Can't you be a little less rough with him?" Anthony said quietly, watching his youngest son fuss and kick as his mother wrestled him into her arms. "He was fine, Joan."_

_Joan shot Anthony a hard, bitter look. "I'm taking him to the ladies' room to wash up. He's got mustard all OVER his face! It's disgusting!" The boy cried, reaching out for his father, as his mother threw him over her shoulder and stalked off._

_Anthony sighed, wanting to grab his son out of Joan's arms, comfort him and let him enjoy the hot dog he'd asked for at the boardwalk stand. He'd clapped with glee when his father ordered the snack, shrieking "Papa! Papa! Look, Binny!" His brother, Vinny, who was almost five, smiled back at him as he took a huge bite of his own hot dog._

_"Thanks, Pop," Vinny said to Anthony. "It's good. You want mustard on yours, Danny?" His little brother shook his head "yes" excitedly. Anthony and his boys then headed back to the beach where Joan lay in a deck chair, sunning herself. And then the afternoon had gone south._

_Anthony and Vinny finished their hot dogs and waited for Joan to return with Danny. When she did, it was obvious Danny had been crying. His eyes were red and puffy and his breath came in short gasps. He had pink markings where Joan had wiped his face. He sobbed as she plopped him down on the beach towel next to Vinny and took her seat in the deck chair. Anthony glared at her as Danny whimpered. Vinny hugged his baby brother, trying to get him to stop crying. Vinny softly told Danny "It's okay" and, in a sweet attempt to make Danny happy again, said they would go build a sand castle._

_"VINCENT!" Joan barked. "SIT DOWN! You just ATE! You and Danny are going to sit RIGHT HERE for an HOUR until I SAY it's time for you to play, do you UNDERSTAND ME?!!! I don't want DANNY getting SICK!" Vinny sighed and sat down. Danny crawled over to Anthony, who lifted him into his arms. Danny sobbed into Anthony's chest. Vinny lay his head in his father's lap, staring at the ocean. Anthony stroked his boy's head as he held Danny against him._

_"His name," Anthony said in a low tone, "is Vincenzo. Not Vincent."_

_"Yep," Vinny said, smiling up at his father. "I'm named after my Grandpa Vincenzo! He was Italian. He came to America on a big boat."_

_Joan pushed down her sunglasses and shot Anthony a hard look. "Don't you DARE correct me in front of our SONS!" Then she turned her glare down at Vinny, narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. "And YOU shouldn't speak out of TURN, you little BRAT!" Vinny gulped. His mother always seemed angry with him but she'd never called him a brat before. He turned over in Anthony's lap, away from Joan, and began to silently cry._

_"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Anthony yelled, loud enough that the beachgoers around the foursome stopped what they were doing and stared. Lowering his voice as he glowered at Joan, Anthony hissed, "NEVER call my son a 'brat' again, you hear me? And you LEAVE Danny ALONE! DAMMIT, Joan, for once can't you let him have some FUN? Can't you let us ALL have some fun? Are you enjoying this -- making everyone miserable?" He coaxed Vinny up from his lap and stood. "C'mon, boys, we're gonna build that sand castle. AFTER Danny gets his hot dog!" Danny clutched at his father, afraid to let go. Vinny took Anthony's hand, making sure not to look his mother in the eye. She scared him._

_From her deck chair, Joan let out a cold, harsh, cutting laugh._

_"Have fun on the boardwalk, Anthony," she called out as her husband headed for the beachfront stands with their sons. "Maybe if you're lucky, you'll find... what was her name again? Hannah?" Anthony stopped in his tracks, hearing the name. "Hmmm..." Joan mused in a cruel tone. "I wonder if she's even still alive? Guess you'll never know. Oh... and while you're up by the bars, why don't you get yourself a beer?" Anthony felt hollow inside. He hadn't touched alcohol in over three years, since the last time Joan had gotten him drunk, had sex with him and become pregnant with Danny. Since then, they'd taken separate rooms. Joan insisted on it; she'd called Anthony a disgusting alcoholic who could only "perform" when drunk. It was only one of the many times she'd questioned his manhood. Replacing her sunglasses, she quietly fixed her gaze on a handsome young lifeguard standing nearby. Motioning him over, Joan patted the end of the deck chair and the man sat down. Anthony watched as Joan smiled at the man, giggling in conversation with him as she stroked his strong, tanned chest._

_"Pop, does Ma know that man?" Vinny asked._

_"She will," Anthony sighed, shaking his head in disgust. He rubbed Vinny's head lovingly and gave Danny a little kiss. "Now... let's go get Danny that hot dog. You look hungry, buddy."_

_Over his shoulder, Danny's green eyes focused on his mother. In the distance he saw her lean over towards a man that wasn't his Papa. He was glad to be away from her but he felt like crying again. He'd only seen his Mama kiss his Papa once or twice and his Papa had never smiled when Mama kissed him but something told the little boy that his Mama kissing the man sitting on her chair was bad._

-------------------------------------------

_**November 1947 - Columbus, Ohio**_

_"No..." Anthony moaned, his voice thick and slurry with alcohol. "No..." He lay on his back, feeling her moving on top of him. She clutched him desperately, thrusting her hips against his as she tried to move him within her. Despite her ministrations, Joan was unable to arouse Anthony in any way. He'd tried to drunkenly get off the bed, nearly falling on the floor in the process, but she'd positioned herself atop him, holding him down. She'd wanted this moment since the first time she saw him in class and she would have him, even if he was unable -- or unwilling -- to sexually perform._

_Making love to him in a seedy motel near the stadium wasn't how she'd imagined their first time would be. But it would do. Anthony was naked in bed with her, finally, and Joan's fantasies about him -- and the sex she'd dreamed they would have -- were going to come true. Even if she had to force the issue. And when Anthony drunkenly tried to push her away, groaning "No... No..." she did._

_As Joan forced Anthony to move within her, she felt a surge of power. At last, she was controlling him and in the way she'd most wanted to. After a while, she even decided that it didn't bother her so much that Anthony was calling out "Hannah" instead of her name. He was too drunk to know what was happening, after all, and for some reason whenever he called for Hannah and Joan answered "Anthony... yes... yes... it's Hannah... Hannah..." he was suddenly aroused. _Whatever it takes_, she thought, _You _will_ be mine.

-------------------------------------------

_**December 1947 - Columbus, Ohio**_

_One month later, telling Anthony of her pregnancy sent a thrill through Joan's body. Now they would be married. He was the father of her baby; there hadn't been another man. Anthony didn't need to worry -- Joan would handle everything. They could be married that same day at City Hall. Why not just take care of that now so they could start their lives together and prepare for the day the baby came? Wasn't he excited? This baby was theirs -- together. Proof of their love. They would name him Anthony Jr., she said, because she just knew she was having a boy. Or maybe Daniel. That was a nice name, too. They could call him Danny -- Danny DiNozzo. Wasn't that adorable?_

_Anthony swallowed hard, staring at the door opposite the sofa in Joan's apartment where they sat. She held him so tightly, her head on his shoulder, planning their future -- it would start in just a few hours and it was all so exciting! -- and Anthony felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He didn't even remember sleeping with Joan but when he'd woken up in the motel room bed, naked, with Joan clinging to him like she'd never let go, he knew she'd finally gotten what she wanted from him all along. He'd felt sick to his stomach then, wondered if he killed himself would he go to Hell like he'd learned at Mass. No, he couldn't do that; Anthony was raised a devout Catholic and he still attended Mass every Sunday. He'd prayed that Joan wouldn't be pregnant but now, here they were._

-------------------------------------------

_**September 1948 - Columbus, Ohio  
**  
When Anthony held his son for the first time nine months after marrying Joan, leaving Ohio State and taking the job his father had held at Buckeye Steel in Columbus, he couldn't help but smile at the fact that his boy, like his beloved father, had the dark brown eyes he himself didn't inherit. Anthony had his mother's green eyes and slightly reddish-brown hair; she was half-Irish. His father had the dark Italian looks -- Mediterranean, like... Hannah -- and the baby, too, sported black hair and brown eyes, looking nothing like either Anthony or Joan. Joan had, in fact, asked the nurse if she had the right baby when the boy was first brought to her. But Anthony knew the squirming boy was his son._

_"Anthony Jr.," Joan had said brusquely, still eyeing the baby suspiciously. She didn't like that he had brown eyes. She'd hoped he would look like her, have her light blue eyes. "That's what we'll name him."_

_"No," Anthony said, his voice steady and strong. "His name is Vincenzo."_

_Joan looked horrified. "Absolutely NOT! What sort of name is that for a child?!!!"_

_Cradling the tiny boy in his arms, Anthony said softly but firmly, "It was my father's name. Now it's our son's name." The baby opened his dark brown eyes wide, smiling at his father. And for the first time in years, since his night with Hannah, Anthony felt joy._


	15. Travellin' Light

Title: Travellin' Light  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Drama  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Tony recalls his grandfather's death -- and his own encounter with a kindly old woman at Papa Tony's grave.  
**  
-------------------- Travellin' Light ---------------------**

Ziva watched Tony from the kitchen. Normally when he napped on the couch, he slept like a ... what was the phrase? ... dead man? No, that wasn't it. Anyway, he was out like a kite. But he thrashed around this afternoon, moaning something to someone about ... snow? "Don't snow"... "Please don't snow"? If this turned into a nightmare, she would awaken him. And comfort him.

The bundle of letters they'd looked through sat on the kitchen counter. She carefully removed the one detailing his grandfather's World War II-era sexual tryst with a woman calling herself "H" and re-read it. Then she cast a knowing glance at her own lover, still restlessly dozing on the living room sofa as he now moaned her name with passionate ardor.

Putting the letter back in the envelope, Ziva smiled to herself. Now it all made sense to her -- the strange, sudden visit they'd taken. Why he hadn't looked unfamiliar to her even before her father had shown her the dossier marked "Anthony DiNozzo." This face, she'd memorized. Although trained to do so for Mossad, she'd studied him because tearing her eyes from him had proven impossible. She'd said nothing when they made their hasty, silent exit but Savta had patted her knee on the flight home and said, in that enigmatic way of hers, "In time, my love, in time..." She hadn't understood then. Now she did.

_Ah, Savta_, she thought, _what a life you did indeed lead in your day._

_-------------------------------------------  
_

_**November 1982 - New York City**_

_He'd never been in such a nice hotel room, not since their first meeting in Casablanca. When he'd brought his family to New York in the early '50s for a summer vacation that Joan had insisted they take, he'd only been able to afford a single room at a cheap place on Long Island. They'd had to ask for a cot. "For the boys, eh?" the motel owner had joked. The man had been right; Anthony and his sons had huddled together in the small foldaway while Joan took the bed for herself._

_He opened his wallet and looked at what he'd brought for the evening. Should he use it? Should he even have brought it? Looking at it now, he felt foolish and decided that no, there was no point. He smiled to himself and thought, Easy, Tiger... She wouldn't have any of such a thing, anyway. Hell, she'd probably kick my ass just for buying it -- even thinking of getting one. No, this would stay tucked away in the old wallet. Never see light of day.  
_

_And when she'd sent him that first letter after he'd seen her watching him at Coney Island, he knew he'd see her again. She wanted it that way, even if she said it could never be. She'd mailed the letter to his work address -- Buckeye Steel -- when he'd gotten back from his vacation. He'd hidden it well from Joan, along with all of his other wartime treasures and with the Star of David he cherished. He would wait to see her someday. He was a master at it, holding back. He'd kept himself in good shape working at the steel mill, quit drinking all those years ago... _

-------------------------------------------

_**December 2002 - Columbus, Ohio**_

_Tony laid a Christmas wreath at his grandfather's headstone, wiping away the snow that covered the inscription._

_ANTHONY DANIEL DiNOZZO  
July 8, 1912 - November 10, 2002  
Sergeant, U.S. Army World War II  
Beloved Father & Husband_

_Bowing his head, he said a silent prayer for Papa Tony. Every Christmas as a small boy, Tony's only joy came when he got his gifts from his grandfather and Uncle Vinny. Papa Tony made sure he had the newest Ohio State sweatshirt for winter and t-shirt for summer. And Uncle Vinny, knowing that Little Anthony dreamed of being a Buckeyes football player or a cop - he wasn't sure which yet, would send him toy guns and little toy police badges. His own parents spent Christmas fighting or drinking, usually both, and gave him socks or clothes that he was ashamed to wear. Grandma Joan said Christmas was invented to make money for people richer than she'd ever be and never sent gifts. Tony missed his grandfather desperately and was having a hard time getting through this first holiday season without him. He'd broken down at Thanksgiving, just after Papa Tony's death, and had been unable to accept his uncle's dinner invitation. Staying in D.C., he'd been surprised when his boss, Gibbs, had asked him if he liked bourbon and invited him over for the day. He'd spent the holiday in Gibbs' basement, drinking bourbon while his new boss hammered out a frame for a boat. Few words had been spoken, but it was OK._

_"He was quite a man," a woman said. Tony turned, acknowledging the voice. Rising to his feet, he greeted a petite, elderly woman dressed in black. Her thick, gray hair was cut to just above her slim shoulders, giving her a matronly but stylish demeanor. In the falling snow, her olive skin and dark brown eyes stood in stark contrast to the white blanketing the cemetery._

_"Yes, ma'am," Tony replied. "He sure was." Offering her a shy smile, he asked, "Were you a friend of my grandfather's? I'm..."_

_"His Little Anthony," she said, grinning warmly at Tony. "Oh, yes, I have heard much about you over the years. You were his joy. And I see that you are no longer so little as you were in the photos! Such a handsome man you have grown to be! Young and strong as he was, looking just as he did." She smiled openly now, looking up at Tony's handsome features. He blushed, laughing quietly._

_"Wow, you... uh... you sure know plenty about me," he stammered, smiling at the old lady. There was something oddly compelling about her, attractive even, to Tony although she was obviously well in her late 70s, maybe early 80s. "You and my Papa Tony must've been really close." His green eyes searched her dark gaze but she betrayed nothing, simply staring back at him with a sly smile playing at her slightly wrinkled lips._

_"Perhaps," she answered. Making her way to the headstone, she knelt -- Tony started to assist her but, seeing that she was surprisingly strong and spry, let her alone -- pressed her forehead against the freezing marble and whispered something in a language his NCIS training had taught him was Hebrew. The only word he understood was his grandfather's name, "Anthony," among the woman's quiet, fervent lamentations. He watched silently as she pressed her lips in a heated embrace, unashamed that he might see, to the inscription bearing his grandfather's name and once more whispered her Hebrew words only, apparently, for Papa Tony to hear. She then placed a single red rose at the base of the stone next to Tony's wreath, arose, turned back to Tony and, reaching up to caress his cheek with her black-gloved hand, winked at him before taking her leave. His green eyes sparkled._

_Tony felt as if he should say something to her, run to her, catch her arm, help her to her car. But he didn't see a car. He did notice a beautiful young woman in the distance, with the same olive skin and a mane of long, black curly hair, standing at the edge of the cemetery, watching him. He took a step, just one, to get a better look at the girl._

_But then a frigid gust of wind came up suddenly, blowing snow back onto his grandfather's headstone. A few flakes of snow hit him and, for only a second, he brought his hands up to rub his stinging eyes._

_And then she was gone. The old woman who'd so boldly embraced the memory of his grandfather in the freezing cemetery just now._

_And with her, she'd taken the lovely young woman who'd been watching him from a distance, just far enough so that Tony couldn't see her face but close enough to have left him feeling a strange, sudden desire that he wanted to explore... if he could ever again find her._

-------------------------------------------

_**December 1947 - Palestine**_

_Elijah David kissed his bride's forehead as they lay quietly together in the most comfortable bed he'd ever slept on. Their wedding day had been hectic, but joyous; their wedding night started out quite differently._

_Hannah had been, as he'd expected, reluctant to have him. But he'd taken his time with her, been gentle and once she'd buried her head against his shoulder as they made love, closing her eyes and murmuring "my love... my perfect love... my strong soldier...", she'd finally relaxed and, to his surprise, proved herself a sensuous partner._

_As Elijah drifted off to sleep, Hannah sighed. This is how it would have to be, she told herself. Elijah was happy. Her family was happy. And if making love to Anthony in her dreams was the only way she could have him, she, too, would find a way to be happy._

-------------------------------------------  
**  
_November 1977 - Columbus, Ohio_**

_It still stunned him that he'd outlived Joan. Her death from cirrhosis of the liver had been horribly painful and Anthony, despite Joan's treatment of him throughout their life together, truly felt sorry for her as she suffered. She resisted any treatments, telling the doctor that if Hell was ready to have her, she was more than ready to go. No burial, she demanded; cremation was faster and, since this was happening on Anthony's pension, she noted, cheaper._

_At her wake, Anthony was surprised to see an old friend from his Ohio State days, John Carlton, the man Joan dated before her obsession with Anthony began, truly grieving Joan's death. Pulling Anthony aside, John tearfully admitted that he'd never gotten over Joan, had been writing her letters over the years begging her to leave Anthony and marry him like they'd originally planned. John was a multi-millionaire; he'd promised her everything she said she'd wanted -- money, a fine home, the chance to travel around the world, the status that came with being a rich man's wife -- and, he confessed to Anthony, he and Joan had rekindled their affair soon after Danny was born. He never understood why, if she didn't love Anthony, she didn't let him go. John apologized to Anthony for everything, but Anthony told him there was nothing to apologize for -- that John had probably made Joan happier, in his own way, than he himself ever did. You'd have been a much better match for her than I was, he told John, giving his old friend a hug. John broke down, embracing the man he'd envied for so long._

_Vincenzo and Anthony sat together at the wake but Danny wouldn't come near them and he wouldn't let his son, who now went by "Tony," go see his favorite uncle and his beloved grandfather. Danny blamed his father for his mother's alcoholism, which reached its peak when Danny was a teenager in the late '60s. With Vincenzo away fighting in Vietnam and Anthony working extra hours at Buckeye Steel in an effort to pay off the family's house note, Danny became his mother's personal bartender. He'd even gotten friendly with his mom's old college pal, Johnny, who dropped by whenever his father was at work. Johnny was everything his father wasn't -- rich, successful, funny, flashy and always willing to toss him ten dollars so he could "hit the bricks for a while, kid, and let your mom and me talk about the good old days, huh?" Danny knew what that meant and for $10 he was okay with it. After all, when Johnny was around his mother was a different person -- one who didn't nag him in her shrill, cutting tone. When he'd married "That Paddington Slut," as his mother dismissed his ex-wife, at 18 after getting her pregnant during a night of drunken sex following a beer blast celebrating his high school graduation, his mother had toasted him with a scotch and said "Just like your old man. The rotten apple doesn't fall far from the tree" and laughed cruelly. Vinny used Vietnam to escape from his mother and the old man used work. Danny got $10 for a few hours' peace and grew to appreciate his mother's taste for alcohol. And Tony. He had a kid now, too, dragging him down. The ex-wife named Tony after his grandfather, finally, when Danny said he didn't care what they named him. _

-------------------------------------------

_**August 1953 - Coney Island, New York**_

_Watching him all that day had given her the most pleasure she'd known since their last encounter, which had been their first -- and only -- meeting. Nothing about him had changed much in her eyes -- his body, which she envisioned every night as she lay in bed, was perhaps even stronger than she'd remembered, the muscles toned from obvious hard work; his green eyes, once sparkling with mischief, now appeared tired but that day, playing with the two small boys who adored him, they were once again bright and full of life; his smile, which appeared to her whenever she closed her eyes, had played on his handsome face only a few times during the visit to the beach -- again, when he was with the little boys. It quickly disappeared at the sound of their mother's shrill voice or the sight of her looming, seemingly ever-present shadow. A chill ran through her at the sight of the man's wife; it was the same odd sensation she often felt in her homeland just before she learned of a death._

_She knew that he was now 41, married to a woman her age -- nearly 10 years younger -- and was a father of two young sons. He made his home far from New York, in the same midwestern town where he'd been born. He'd brought his family to Coney Island for a long-overdue summer vacation, one he'd worked tiring overtime shifts to afford._

_Her position allowed her to know everything about him, even if she could never contact him. And she had followed his life in America from the moment she'd become trusted enough in the Mossad ranks to gain access to such information. Elijah had insisted on her promotion, telling his -- now, their -- superiors that Hannah was not only his wife but his most trusted ally in all things. In war, he'd said, he would take Hannah as his only compatriot over any man; she would fight to the death for Israel, for the cause, for him. He loved her deeply and truly. I would die for you, Hannah, he'd told her on their wedding night. She felt hollow, thinking of him now -- and where she was._

_Fighting back tears at the thought of her husband, home in Tel Aviv with their own infant son, she focused again on the man who secretly sustained her in her marriage. Without her memories of him and of their night together, she might never have been able to give Elijah the child he so desired. Her former lover purchased a hot dog and an Italian ice at a stand on the boardwalk. He walked his boys to a nearby bench and tenderly fed his younger son the hot dog while the older boy kicked and laughed, lapping at his sweet ice treat. She longed to run to her lost love then, hold him, feel his skin against hers just one more time, kiss him -- but she knew this could not happen._

_She was a wife and mother now. And he was a husband and father. Their lives had taken markedly different paths since their single night together over 10 years before and there was no going back._

_He kissed each of his boys on the head and glanced down the boardwalk in her direction. Then he straightened, staring right at her. He started to rise from the bench for a better look. The wind caught her long, black curly hair. She pushed it from her face. His boys looked up at him, confused. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost._

_It was a lovely day at the beach. And she had stayed too long._

_The man took a step, just one, towards where he'd seen her standing, watching him. His body tensed with a shiver of shock and excitement. He was certain of what -- who -- he'd just seen._

_But then another gust of wind came up suddenly, blowing snack wrappers and sand along the wooden planks of the beachfront strip. A few grains of sand hit him and, for only a second, he brought his hands up to rub his eyes._

_And then she was gone._

_He swallowed hard, knowing the moment was now lost forever. His youngest son tugged gently at his swim trunks. The boy, who'd had a difficult day with his mother, looked up at him as if he were about to cry, and the man sat down on the bench, cradling his son to his chest as his other boy asked him who the pretty woman looking at them had been._

-------------------------------------------

_**November 1947 - Palestine**_

_During the nearly five years she had been delaying her marriage to Elijah David, his devotion to her had grown that much stronger. Her family, infuriated that the wedding had been put off so long, now pushed her to marry the young military man considered to be a future national leader. Any other woman would fall to her knees and thank God Himself for the affections of such a man, her mother insisted. Her father was more direct: No more delays, no more excuses. She would marry Elijah in one month._

_Alone in the inky darkness of her bedroom, Hannah wept. She had fallen in love with a man she would never again see. And her future husband would find out the truth -- that she was already a woman, not the virginal young girl he believed her to be._

_Forcing herself to stop crying, she stared into the black nothingness of the room. She would be Elijah's wife. But her lover, the man who would keep her secretly satisfied in Elijah's bed, would always be Anthony._

-------------------------------------------

_**November 2002 - New York City**_

_Tony ran blindly through the hospital entrance, dodging the slower-moving people in his path. When his Uncle Vincenzo called to say that his grandfather, now 90, was in the critical care unit after suffering a massive heart attack, he'd told his new boss at NCIS, this hard-ass named Gibbs, that he really WAS sorry but his Papa Tony was on life support in New York and... he apologized for saying "Papa Tony" and said I'll be back ASAP, sir -- I mean, Gibbs... I mean, Boss -- but he's my grandfather and... Gibbs had stared at him with those creepy blue eyes of his, put a hand on his shoulder and quietly said, "Go, son." Nobody had ever called Tony "son" before._

_As they sat in the small hospital room, Tony and Uncle Vincenzo, on opposite sides of Papa Tony's bed, each of them holding one of the old man's still-strong hands, both noticed the strangest thing._

_Papa Tony, beneath the oxygen mask pumping air into his failing lungs, was smiling. When he finally let go of this life, Tony and Uncle Vincenzo found it hard to believe he was really gone. Looking at his strong, still well-toned body -- 90 years along -- he appeared manly and vigorous, ready to jump out of the bed and root on his beloved Buckeyes or bang his cane on the floor and demand to know where the line to re-enlist was after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks. I have a friend from the old days, he'd sworn to Tony, who can find those bastards and take 'em ALL out! His green eyes had burned with fury. The nurse handed Tony his grandfather's clothing when his uncle left to make funeral arrangements. In the old man's wallet, he found, to his utter shock, a condom that had never been opened. The expiration date read "November 1983." He removed the condom, put it in his own wallet and decided he'd keep this information to himself._

_At his wake back in Columbus, Uncle Vincenzo scratched his head, frowned and told Tony he still didn't understand what the old man was doing at the JFK Airport. Since he'd moved in with Vincenzo back in 1982, he'd made regular trips into the city -- hey, it was New York, right? -- but... well... Pop did always spend one night or two -- sometimes a few weekends a year, even -- over in the city and he'd done so the day before he died, staying overnight to visit the old friend who came to town each time that year. Guess they'd had a little too much fun this time, Uncle Vincenzo said, laughing as he wiped away a tear. Maybe the old man was seeing off his friend when the ticker finally gave out. Tony's detective antenna went up. A friend? Did he know anything about this friend? Was the friend there when Papa Tony had died? Where was this 'friend' now? They could check it out through the airlines. Uncle Vincenzo simply put a hand on Tony's shoulder and asked him did it really matter anymore? The old man finally had a moment's peace now. Tony, a little ashamed of himself, nodded that his uncle was right. Uncle Vincenzo hugged him and left to thank some of Papa Tony's much younger former colleagues from Buckeye Steel -- his 'boys' he'd trained in the mill -- and his 'girls' -- the young women in the office who'd openly flirted with him even when he'd grown old and gray. He was always a hunk -- built like a brickhouse till the day he retired, one of the 'girls' (now in her 50s), had confided to Tony, telling him he looked just like his grandpa and he should ring her up next time he was back in town for an Ohio State game. Politely excusing himself, Tony's green eyes scanned the room and suddenly met another pair of green eyes, red and bleary, staring back at him. Walking over to the man, he quietly asked him if he couldn't have at least stayed sober for his own father's funeral. The man answered that he was sober as a judge. Didn't Tony know when someone had been crying, even?_

-------------------------------------------

_**November 1982 - New York City**_

_It didn't feel like it had been forty years since they'd last touched._

_When she'd suggested the meeting, he could barely contain his excitement at just the idea of seeing her again. And when she'd arrived at the hotel room, looking just as slim and lovely as she had that night in 1942, he swallowed back tears. His emotions, forced so far within him for so many years, overtook him and he was unable to speak. She approached him, tenderly caressing his cheek with her hand, her dark eyes gazing up at his handsome face._

_"Anthony..." she whispered. Her body trembled with desire for him. Elijah had been gone for nearly five years now. It had taken her this long to convince herself that seeing Anthony again would not be cheating on the man she had grown to love as her best friend, if not her true soulmate. And when Anthony had written back that his wife, too, had passed away years earlier, she had wept at the thought that finally she might see him in person, touch him again, feel his embrace._

_She and Anthony now were both so much older than they'd been that night in Casablanca but she saw before her only the same strong, gorgeous man she'd fallen in love with at the steamy Moroccan bar. Taking his hand, she led him to the bed. They sat on its edge, holding each other tightly, kissing hungrily, both surprised at how raw their emotions still were after all the time apart._

_He worried that he wouldn't be able to make love to her. Since they'd parted that night 40 years ago, he'd had sex exactly two times -- both with Joan when he was fall-down drunk. She'd forced herself on him, become pregnant with their sons through those encounters, neither of which he remembered, and so he'd told himself that something good had resulted from what had otherwise been sex he hadn't wanted. He spent the years in his bedroom, separate from Joan's, remembering that single night with Hannah and the memory had been enough to satisfy him. He was 70, an old man. What if he couldn't love Hannah as he had when he was young and strong?_

_But now she'd taken off his shirt and she ran her hands through his gray chest hair, feeling the hard muscles of his chest. The years of mill work had kept him hard and toned. She moved to unzip his trousers and his reaction was immediate and intense. She giggled, sounding exactly like the girl she'd been during their first night together._

_"My strong soldier," she purred. "My perfect love."_

_Within minutes it was all he could do to breathe her name as she pulled him against her, crying out "Anthony" along with some Hebrew expressions he didn't understand as they made love again and again, unwilling to break the union each had dreamed of for so many decades. She had become an expert lover, Anthony found, far bolder than she'd even been when they'd first been together. And she had been a virgin that night. But bold. Ready for him to bring her into womanhood. He'd been gentle with her at first, not wanting to hurt her or scare her. Hannah was having none of it. Throwing Anthony on his back, she took charge, determined to show this man she was unafraid of being his lover. It had cemented his desire for her, his love for this exotic stranger..._

_After their heated reunion, Hannah and Anthony lay together in the silky sheets of the hotel bed, reveling in the sensation of finally having experienced their special passion again. She stroked his chest hair, fingering the Star of David she'd given him so long ago, as she peppered his neck with hot kisses. He growled with pure pleasure, pulling her against him. She moaned, wishing she could stay in his strong arms forever. They reaffirmed their love for each other, the devotion that had never died, before beginning another lengthy session of intense lovemaking._

_The next morning, when they'd awakened, showered together and had an intimate breakfast on the room's balcony overlooking Central Park, Anthony held Hannah in his arms once more and a firm date was agreed upon._

_The same date. The same hotel. The same room. Next year. And every year to follow. Until death should part them. _

_Her life was in Israel. His, now, with his son on Long Island. Perhaps they couldn't formally marry, but they swore their own vows to one another now as they had in 1942. For forty years each had been the spouses of others but, in their hearts privately, their union had never been broken. And it never would be again. This they knew. If she could come to New York before their yearly anniversary, she would contact him. They would meet in this room, enjoying one another. But the November date was now forever set._

_When Anthony kissed Hannah for the final time at the airport, as she prepared to board her plane back to Tel Aviv, he pressed something into her hand. A necklace -- the golden crucifix his father had the priest bless for him as a boy -- to remind her of him, of their love, of their agreement. Caressing his cheek once more as she searched his sparkling green eyes, she smiled suggestively at him, turned and, looking back at him before disappearing into the walkway towards the plane, said "I love you, Anthony." He called back that he loved her too and she winked at him. And as he watched the plane take off with his precious cargo on board, he closed his eyes and thanked God that he was, once again, alive._


	16. Come Rain Or Come Shine

Title: Come Rain Or Come Shine  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Drama  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Tony and Ziva clash about an NCIS cold case suspect and ponder issues of trust in their relationship.

-------------------- **Come Rain Or Come Shine** ---------------------  
_  
**November 1942 - Morocco**_

_"Hannah, huh?" Sergeant Anthony DiNozzo asked the girl sitting beside him at the bar. He was working overtime to keep his green eyes from moving down from her lovely face... past her nearly-bare shoulders... to the cleavage her form-fitting yet modest dress offered him as a tease... to her shapely, slender hips... to the slim, strong legs she primly crossed now, seated on her barstool. They sat face to face, each leaning against the bar, chins propped on palms as they gazed suggestively into one another's eyes. Anthony shifted slightly on his barstool, feeling his groin tighten uncomfortably under her dark, smoky stare. "You got a last name, too... Hannah?" He raised an eyebrow playfully, a sly grin curling his lips._

_"I do," Hannah replied, her own lips now pressing, then parting slightly as she studied his features. "It does not matter." He loved her accent already. Her words danced in his ears._

_"Matters to me," Anthony said, leaning towards her. Even in this bar, where seemingly everyone but the two of them chain-smoked and the air was thick with the smell of strong tobacco, all he could breathe in now was Hannah's scent -- a unique, wholly exotic mix of fruit and musk. He'd been drinking that night, depressed earlier over the 10th anniversary of his beloved father's passing as he sat alone at the bar, but now the only intoxication Anthony felt came from this beautiful, enigmatic girl. "You don't trust me? To know your whole name, Hannah? You know mine."_

_She leaned toward him, so closely that their foreheads nearly touched. Hannah felt the heat of Anthony's breath, took in the masculine smell of his cologne, peered deeply into the sparkling green eyes such as she had never seen before._

_"I trust you," she purred, their lips nearly meeting, "to trust me... Anthony." She reached for him, loosely taking his military-issue khaki tie in her free hand. Rubbing the knot with her thumb, she tenderly stroked the tie down slowly, then back up again even more slowly, over and over again. Anthony took a sharp breath in, gasping._

_"Let us take our conversation... elsewhere," Hannah whispered. Anthony swallowed hard, barely able to get air into his lungs. Hannah bit her lip as she smiled at him, allowing her dark brown eyes to move down from his handsome face past his strong torso to where she'd been covertly noting his progress as he adjusted his position while sitting._

-------------------------------------------

**NCIS squad room - Washington, D.C.**

"A man releases the aft stairs of a COMMERCIAL AIRLINER and leaps out in flight at TWO HUNDRED miles per hour, IN the bitter cold, wearing NO protective gear with nearly 25 pounds of MONEY lashed to him while relying on a heavy parachute ONLY to bring him safely to earth? IN the dark of night with NO available light whatsoever and strong winds hitting him head-on?" Ziva folded her arms defiantly over her chest, frowning sternly at the thick file on her desk.

"... and the bartender says, 'Why the long face?' Ha-HAH!" At his desk across the aisle, Tony leaned back and grinned foolishly, giving himself a "Buh-dump-BAH!" rimshot for effect. Ziva stared back at him, clearly not amused. He readjusted his tie, looking around the Bullpen to see if anyone else had been watching. "Good," he mumbled to himself, "No witnesses."

Ziva sat and studied the first page of the file before her.

"Don Hooper... Also known as D.C. Hooper... Wanted by NIS for skyjacking Northeast Atlantic Flight 356 on November 10, 1971... Hooper demanded $200,000 U.S. dollars in cash as ransom, threatening to blow up the plane if his demands were not met. When he received his ransom and his requested parachutes, he apparently opened the airliner's aft stairwell as the plane made its way from Washington to Pittsburgh, jumped and has to this day remained missing. UNBELIEVABLE!" She shook her head, unable to process the bizarre facts before her.

Tony leaned farther back in his chair, propping his feet on his desk. He took a pair of mirrored aviator's sunglasses from his suit breast pocket, taking pains to place them just so over his eyes.

"Ahhhhh yeaaaahhhh... D.C. Hooper. Skyjacker. Gentleman thief. Fugitive from justice. American folk hero. Snappy dresser. The ultimate man's man. Takes over a plane dressed in a black suit and tie, wearing shades while sipping bourbon and soda, smoking Raleighs. My kinda criminal."

"This man impresses you, Tony?" Ziva was taken aback by her partner's speech. "According to the flight attendants' testimony, he produced a suitcase that contained what appeared to them to be a homemade bomb! The man was a terrorist!"

"All true," Tony allowed, checking to see how he looked in the sunglasses with the aid of a small mirror, "but you gotta admit it's a cool story. And the guy had a style all his own -- never let 'em see him sweat, chatted it up with the stewardesses, didn't lift a finger to actually hurt anyone and, if he survived the jump, got away with it. He's James Bond... just in a bad-guy way. Man, this'd make a great movie! Clooney could totally nail the part..."

"When you get the Oscar for 'Greatest Achievement In Actually Doin' Work,' DiNozzo," a voice said angrily, "don't forget to thank me in your acceptance speech before the band plays ya off the stage, willya?" Gibbs stalked past Tony, knocking his feet off the desk with a swipe of his hand. Tony nearly fell out of his chair. He quickly fumbled with the sunglasses, hastily putting them -- and the mirror -- away in a desk drawer. Ziva smirked at him; he snarled back at her.

"ON the Hooper cold case, Boss!" Tony chirped, leaping up from his desk. He skipped over to Ziva's desk and snatched the file, pretending to study it with intensity. Ziva narrowed her eyes at the scene, shooting Gibbs a frustrated look. His blue eyes met hers before he glanced up at Tony, who stood frowning at the file, and then rolled his eyes. Ziva sat back in her seat, grinning to herself as she pulled up the FBI computer files on Hooper. "Boss?" Tony asked, "Why's this an NIS case? Hooper didn't skyjack a fighter jet. Heh heh heh..." Then, seeing that Gibbs wasn't amused, he grimaced and said "I mean, he couldn't. No way to jump out. Plus those Navy pilots, they'd have given him the old..."

"Hooper demanded the money come from Norfolk, DiNozzo," Gibbs barked. "That made it an NIS case. Now it's our case. Gettin' colder by the minute."

"Like your coffee, Boss," Tony laughed nervously. "Lemme get you some fresh."

Gibbs' blue eyes went wide as Tony's hand reached for his tall coffee. Tony pulled his hand back quickly and took the file back to Ziva's desk.

"I am glad you realize the importance of having _two_ hands," she purred as he leaned close to her. "They each please me, in their own way."

-------------------------------------------

_**November 1989 - Columbus, Ohio**_

_They sat together after the Buckeyes' loss to Michigan, the cold wind swirling around them in the near-empty stadium, Tony and his grandfather, and watched the groundskeepers begin repairing the football turf._

_"You got a special girl, Tony?" his grandfather asked, breaking what had been a comfortable silence._

_"Nah," Tony replied. "Not just one, anyway," he added with a devilish grin._

_"You'll get one someday," Papa Tony said. "She'll knock you off your props, boy, when you least expect it."_

_"I'm not lookin' to settle down -- ever," Tony smirked. "Falling in love's for suckers."_

_The old man laughed. Tony looked over at him, confused. What did Papa Tony, who spent his life in a miserable marriage to a woman he didn't even want to marry, know about falling in love? Or being in love, period?_

_"You'll learn," Papa Tony said gently, patting Tony's knee. "Just remember when she finds you -- and she will -- to trust her. She's gonna be your partner and you gotta hear her out, even when you don't agree with her. But always trust the woman you love. Without trust between you and her, you got nothin'. And besides," he added, "she's usually gonna be right. You can trust your old Papa Tony on THAT, buddy. Believe me, I know!" He gave Tony a loving hug of the shoulders._

_Tony started to ask his grandfather just how he knew but stopped. Let him have his fun. Ever since he'd turned 70, something had changed the old guy. Even after Grandma Joan died, he'd seemed sad and lonely but right after moving to New York from Ohio in the fall of 1982, he'd been a different man -- a happy man. Seeing Papa Tony this way made Tony happy, too. And right now, they were both happy. Even if the Buckeyes did lose._

-------------------------------------------

**Tony's apartment - Washington, D.C.**

"I say Hooper got away with it," Tony said, adjusting his mirrored sunglasses as he juggled a sack of groceries while opening the apartment door. "Probably sunnin' and funnin' it on a beach in Mexico right now, enjoying a cold cerveza and a hot chica. It's always the cool guys who get away with it. The losers go down for 20-to-life. Good thing Probie's on OUR side, heh heh heh..."

"And I say Hooper is dead," Ziva shot back as she put her own bag of groceries on the kitchen table. "There is no way he could have survived such a jump..."

"Another guy made a jump just like it outta a commercial jet a year later and he lived. Got 40 years. Total loser. Couldn't pull off the suit. Or the shades. Copycats never win," Tony interrupted, taking the groceries from the sack. He carefully took off the sunglasses, placing them on the table.

"... IF I may finish my point, Tony -- there is no way he could have survived such a jump in such FREEZING conditions," Ziva countered. "I studied the case file thoroughly. I read about the jump you speak of the next year. That man jumped in moderate weather. It was nowhere near as cold, nor as windy, as when Hooper made his jump."

"OK, so Hooper's dead," Tony mused sarcastically. "Then where's the body? Or the money?" Mimicking Cuba Gooding Jr. in "Jerry Maguire," he said "SHOW ME THE MONEY!" as he opened a fresh carton of milk, sniffed it and then took a huge drink straight from it. Ziva narrowed her eyes at him. Tony, sporting a milk mustache, let out a satisfied "AHHHHHHH!" and placed the carton in the refrigerator.

"Money was found in 1979," she said, placing some vegetables in the crisper. Tony studied her hips as she leaned over to open the drawer. "Five-thousand eight hundred dollars, to be exact. Still wrapped in bundles. Stop looking at my ASS, Tony, and hand me the wine, please." Tony snarled and retrieved a bottle of white zinfandel from a brown paper bag.

"Proving what?" Tony asked, handing Ziva the bottle. She placed it in the refrigerator, closing the door. "The cash was buried by a riverbank near the Potomac. He chuted out around a half-hour outta Washington towards Pittsburgh. Can you prove Hooper didn't chute outta the plane, survive and then head back to D.C. somehow and bury it there?"

"And can you prove that he DID?" Ziva crossed her arms, staring defiantly at Tony. Now he was getting angry.

"About as much as you can prove that he didn't... Ziva," Tony hissed, turning to find a saute pan. It was his turn to make dinner. He banged the pan on the stovetop.

"You are angry because I refuse to buy into the myth of your suit-wearing skyjacker!" Ziva couldn't help smiling at the incredulousness of the idea. "It upsets you that I am not impressed with his sunglasses and his four o'clock shadow!"

'Five o'clock shadow," Tony sneered, chopping some garlic. "And what upsets me is that you expect me to trust your feelings on these kinds of cases but you don't trust anything I say. You just reject it like I don't know what I'm talking about." He pushed the garlic aside and started chopping some bell peppers.

"That is NOT true!" Ziva replied, growing defensive.

"See?" Tony muttered, chopping away. He didn't turn to face her. She came to stand beside him, fixing her dark eyes on him as he worked.

"Tony, you know I respect your opinion! I have, always! You are a fine investigator," Ziva tried to make him believe her or even look at her. Softening her tone, she continued, "And I love you. Of course I trust you -- in every way." She tenderly caressed his arm. Tony stopped working with the cooking knife. He turned his green eyes to her.

"Doesn't feel that way sometimes," he said quietly. Dropping his eyes, he sighed. "Look, you're my partner... my girlfriend... my BEST friend. I know we're not always gonna agree and that's fine but..." He paused, searching for the right words. "Okay, usually you turn out to be right and that's fine, too. You're smarter than me, I know that." Ziva started to say no, she wasn't, but Tony gently put a finger to her lips, smiling tenderly. "You are. That's why I love you. One of the reasons, anyway. And even if I don't think you're right, I trust you. I just wanna feel like you trust me, that's all. Maybe that's just something I gotta work on. I've never worried about whether a woman trusted me before." He chuckled. "Probably 'cause I never gave 'em reason to. So I'm learning."

Ziva rubbed his arm, offering him one of her sexy, enigmatic looks.

"We will agree to disagree," she said softly. "But, please, Tony... please know that I always, always trust in you. I always have and always will. You have my trust. And my heart."

"I know... I know. And you're stuck with me, too -- because I'm crazy about you, Ziva," he said, pulling her to him. He held her and kissed her deeply. "I was just gettin' mad," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Ziva said, adding with a laugh, "because I now smell like garlic and onions."

Tony nuzzled her neck vigorously.

"Yeah," he moaned, pressing his lips against her skin, "And that's another reason you're drivin' me nuts right now, Sweet Cheeks. Trust me."


	17. Someone To Watch Over Me

Title: Someone To Watch Over Me  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Humor  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: The supposedly cold D.C. Hooper case becomes suddenly red hot when Ziva learns shocking information. Also, Tony surprises Ziva with a stunning demand.

-------------------- **Someone To Watch Over Me** ---------------------

**NCIS squad room - Washington, D.C.  
**  
"Anything on the Hooper case?" Gibbs' question was characteristically blunt, asked without him looking up from his desk at either Tony or Ziva. Neither wanted to be the one to admit the case was still cold.

"We're, uh, chasin' leads, Boss," Tony offered nervously.

"WHAT leads, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' tone suggested his complete disbelief. And anger.

"Old... leads?" Tony smiled at no one in particular, clearly in panic mode. Gibbs looked over at his senior field agent. He was not amused. Tony grimaced in fear and hurriedly turned to check something on his computer.

"Unfortunately, our interviews with the original witnesses have not uncovered any new evidence, Gibbs," Ziva said flatly. "I am most surprised that they have not altered their stories in the almost 40 years since the event occurred. That is unusual, to say the least."

"Yep," Gibbs agreed, turning back to his work. "You got nothin'. Gimme somethin'."

Ziva sighed quietly and returned to scouring the Hooper file for possible witnesses the original NIS agents may have missed in their initial investigation. Tony made his way to Ziva's desk, signaling to her that he needed part of the files. Ziva gritted her teeth at him. Tony snarled back. But she handed him half of the case file. When he sat down at his desk, he winked at her. She smirked back, raising an eyebrow seductively.

-------------------------------------------

_**November 1942 - Morocco**_

_He held her now against him as they sat in an outdoor plaza near the bar, his arms around her slim waist, her back pressed against his body. In the night air, he inhaled the scent of her hair, her neck and shoulders as his lips brushed her olive skin. She moaned softly under his touch, murmuring something in ... in ... well..._

_"Where you from?" he whispered thickly, caressing her shoulder with kisses. "Please, Hannah... tell me."_

_"Palestine," she replied softly. "My home is in Tel Aviv, with my family. You have been there, Anthony, with the Army?"_

_"No," he said, "but I'd like to go there -- with you. You could be my guide? Show me around town?" They laughed tenderly at the thought of it._

_"I would," she answered, smiling as she studied the fountain in the plaza. "You appear to like deserts." She thought of Anthony in Tel Aviv and what a strange figure he would be in contrast to the other men with his reddish brown hair and green eyes. But she liked the image of them in her homeland, together._

-------------------------------------------

**NCIS squad room - Washington, D.C.**

"Officer Ziva David," Ziva said, answering her phone. Her dark brown eyes focused on the Hooper case file pages before her, early 1970s interviews the original NIS agents had conducted with the stewardesses from the airplane Hooper skyjacked.

"Officer David? My name is Pepper Conrad. You left a message for me recently? Regarding an... investigation? Into the D.C. Hooper case? I've already been interviewed on that -- a couple of times." A woman's voice, middle-aged, came across the line, tense and obviously uncomfortable with the idea of speaking about the old case she'd already testified about. Ziva noted how quickly the woman spoke, as if she wanted to hang up.

"Thank you for returning my call, Mrs. Conrad," Ziva began. "You are Pepper Stevens, correct? That is the name I have on file for you."

"Yes," the woman answered. "When I was first interviewed, I was unmarried. I mean, it was 1971. I got married the next year."

"I see," Ziva replied. "That is not reflected in the case file. My apologies for any confusion on my part. The reason I called, Mrs. Conrad, is this: NCIS is reopening the Hooper case in hopes of determining who the man calling himself 'Don' or 'D.C. Hooper' may truly be and what may have actually happened to him. We would like to close this case once and for all. You are the stewardess who spent the most time with Hooper on the plane. I would like to re-interview you, please."

"Oh... Officer David..." the woman stammered. "Please... I'd rather not. I've spent the past forty years trying to get past the Hooper case. My husband and I are finally retired now. My son just got married. I'd just like to be free of it all. It's not that I don't want to help. I just... I want to forget about Don Hooper. He's been part of my life since 1971 and I want him out of it."

"Mrs. Conrad," Ziva said, planning a way to get the interview. The woman, frankly, sounded scared. "I do understand how you must feel. You did not ask for this man to become part of your life. Nor did you ask to become a key witness in a case that quite frankly should have been solved decades ago. There is no excuse for the way this has been dragged out. And I apologize for this. However, this case will never be solved unless the people who were there -- like yourself -- perhaps are able to provide us with something, anything, that may prove to be something the original investigators missed. All I ask is for a small amount of your time, Mrs. Conrad. Please."

The woman hesitated before finally answering.

"Alright, Officer David. You have my address? If you'll let me know when we can meet -- privately -- I'll speak with you. I just... I'd rather my husband and son didn't know. Is that possible?"

"I cannot promise that. I'm sorry."

The woman sighed.

"Okay. Okay... Can we meet this weekend? Saturday? My husband and son are entered in a golf tournament. We'll have all day to talk."

"That would be fine," Ziva said.

After the women agreed on a place and time, Ziva hung the phone up and considered the conversation she'd just had. Why didn't Mrs. Conrad want her husband and son to know about this interview? Her husband certainly had known about her involvement in the Hooper case. Hadn't he?

She would find out Saturday. Until then, she would background Pepper Stevens, now Pepper Conrad. There was much to learn.

-------------------------------------------

_**July 1987 - Tel Aviv, Israel**_

_"You are enjoying your birthday present, my love?" Hannah murmured, stroking the gray hair on Anthony's wet chest as they relaxed in the hotel pool. She loved the way his tanned, strong muscles glistened in the sun. Now having just turned 75, he put the majority of younger men lounging in the deck chairs to shame with his physique. And, as only she knew, he still had the energy of 10 men not even half his age in the bedroom._

_"Yes, angel," Anthony replied, kissing her neck tenderly. "I love it here. I love YOU here. This is the finest birthday I've had since little Tony was born..."_

_"... on your birthday," Hannah finished for him, grinning. "Such a blessed event. A sign from God Himself. Tony is the one who will carry on your legacy. In him, you live on. From you, he was created. The circle has reached one completion of its cycle, but it will not end. It begins anew."_

_Anthony fixed his green eyes on the woman he cherished. He always loved her but when she spoke like this, he was deeply touched._

_"How is it that you know everything about everything, honey?" Hannah blushed. He stroked her chin with his fingers, rough from his years of steel mill work. "I'm serious. My GOD, you're brilliant. How come a smart, gorgeous, classy chick like you's hangin' out with an old, broken-down Buckeye like me, huh? What'd I ever do to get so lucky?" A gentle smile played on Anthony's lips. Hannah soaked up the sight of him now, still so handsome and sexy -- ever the gentleman to her -- humbled by her strength as a woman where other men had resented it. Her father had despised it. Only Anthony and her late husband Elijah truly respected this quality in her. No, she thought, untrue -- her son Eli, a rising Mossad officer, revered his mother for this. Eli worshipped his parents, his mother holding a particularly special place in her son's heart._

_"Never underestimate yourself, my darling," Hannah said, fixing him firmly with her dark gaze. "I will not hear it." She kissed him deeply, passionately and he responded physically as she knew he would. "Now, please me, Anthony. Right here. Right now. In front of everyone."_

_Anthony growled, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his mouth._

_"Here and now, huh, Sweet Cakes? You little devil..." He looked around the pool area. "And you, uh, don't mind that everybody's watchin'?"_

_"Oh, no," she purred. "I prefer it that way. I want these lazy young pups to see how a man with experience... performs for his lady."_

_"What my lady wants," Anthony said, planting a hot kiss on Hannah's forehead, "my lady gets." He hoisted his strong frame out of the water with ease, muscles tensing as he did so, and with a wink at his lover, strode towards the deep end of the pool. Hannah smirked, watching the young women pull down their sunglasses, their dark eyes roaming Anthony's body as he passed them. They are checking him up, she thought proudly. The young men sat forward, looking uncomfortable at the idea of an old man arousing their girlfriends' interest. "Hiya, girls!" Anthony called to the young women brightly. "Lovely day, isn't it?" Then, offering the men a friendly salute and a broad toothy grin, he said, "At ease, boys."_

_He took the steps of the high diving board slowly, firmly, planning his next move. Standing perfectly straight, muscled arms at his sides, Anthony inhaled deeply, then exhaled. His toned legs carried him down the board, his feet bounced him from the end, his strong body catapulted high into the air, flipping and turning before he again straightened himself into a perfect line, splitting the water below with barely a ripple._

_There was stunned silence at the pool, then a loud outbreak of applause from everyone when Anthony burst up out of the blue water, pushing his short-cropped gray hair back with his strong hands. The young women whistled at him; the young men stood and cheered. He smiled and waved to them good-naturedly and swam to Hannah, who reclined against the pool's edge wearing that enigmatic smirk of hers that always turned him on._

_"Was it good for you, too, Sweet Cakes?" Anthony murmured, winking, as he pulled her to him. They laughed out loud together and she splashed him playfully._

_"Anthony," Hannah said at last, "I have decided on what we discussed earlier. My answer is yes. To everything. No more waiting. It is time." Anthony's green eyes brimmed with tears. Unable to hold back his happiness at Hannah's words, he took her in his strong arms and kissed her with everything he had. Then he held her as if he'd never let her go._

_"Darling," he whispered. "Oh, darling..." Choking up with emotion, he couldn't continue. Hannah kissed his neck, stroking his back, as she pressed against him. She'd been holding back tears, too, and now she allowed them, finally, to flow as she realized their dreams would come true after so many years, so many delays._

-------------------------------------------

**Tony's apartment - Washington, D.C.**

"Move in with me," Tony said softly, breathing in the scent of Ziva's hair as he pored over his half of the Hooper case file. They lay on the couch together, Ziva's back against Tony's chest.

"I stay here each weekend already," Ziva replied, continuing to study the interview with Pepper Stevens, the stewardess who'd spent the most time with Hooper -- the one he hadn't released in Washington. "And Monday through Friday besides," she added, chuckling. "I believe I have become your roommate, Tony."

"I mean let's make it official," Tony said huskily. "You move in. Always be here. Make this our apartment. You get your mail here. Move your stuff here. Park your car here. Anyone asks for your address, you give 'em this one." He kissed her neck. "Ziva, please. I want you with me." She turned to face him. He stroked her chin with his thumb. "Move in. I want this to be our place. Our first place -- our first home -- together, anyway."

Ziva kissed Tony deeply. "My lease is up at the end of the month," she said, working to keep her voice steady. She swallowed to keep the tears from coming. Tony was surprising her in so many ways since they'd started seeing one another. "I will not renew it. I will move here -- with you." She kissed him again, then hugged him close.

"Month's too long," Tony murmured into her neck, nuzzling the skin. "I want you moved in starting now. Tonight. This minute." He pulled back, fixing her with his green eyes as he pushed back her hair.

"You are going to make demands of me like this here in our home, Tony?" Ziva asked playfully, touching her forehead to Tony's. He grinned back. "Perhaps a night here on our couch will remind you not to take me for granted."

"Sorry, Sweet Cheeks," Tony said. "Lost my head there for a second. Too excited about my hot girlfriend movin' in. Forgive me?"

"If you please me," Ziva purred, "as you know I wish to be pleased only by you. Welcome me to my new home, Tony."

"Right here?" Tony asked. "In the living room? On the couch? Shouldn't we, uh, take this to the bedroom? More space there. I can really, um, stretch out and give you the full effect -- just the way you really like it -- if you know what I mean." His breathing grew hard and shallow at the thought of what Ziva wanted from him. She merely offered him a sultry stare in return.

"I want it from you right here, right now, my little furry butt," Ziva breathed, kissing Tony's neck as she unbuttoned his shirt, running her hands through the hair on his chest. He groaned with pleasure.

"Whatever you demand, my ninja," Tony said, tenderly pushing Ziva down on the couch. She lay on her back, giggling, as he finished pulling off his shirt. Straddling her hips, he bent down to kiss her once more, growling before he pulled back to gaze down at her. Placing his hands on the top of his thighs, he inhaled deeply, then exhaled and flexed his strong arms. Ziva's dark eyes roamed Tony's body, reveling in the sight of his chest hair and his muscles. He'd recently started working out and it was beginning to show.

Raising his arms, Tony began beating his fists against his chest as he let out a loud Tarzan yell at the top of his lungs. Ziva couldn't contain her laughter. When Tony finished, he growled at her again and said "Me Tony! You Ninja!" before tickling her. They fell off their couch together then, kicking and laughing, and held each other all night later as they celebrated their first night together, officially, in what was now their bedroom.

-------------------------------------------

**Tony & Ziva's apartment - Washington, D.C., Saturday morning**

Tony let out a wolf whistle as he looked over the 1971 photo of Pepper Stevens. As a young woman of 21 then, she perfectly fit the profile of what Northeast Atlantic Airlines wanted in its stewardesses -- blonde, slim, shapely and sexy. Her tight uniform showed off her figure. She smiled brightly, posing with a tray and cocktails.

"SHE loves to fly and it shows," Tony remarked, his eyes scanning the black and white picture in the case file. "She's ready when YOU are! Heh heh heh..." He snickered, sticking out his tongue. Ziva smacked his upper arm and Tony whimpered. Rubbing his arm, he put the photo back in the file. "Bet she's still holdin' up after all these years. The stewardesses, they never lose it." Ziva shook her head at him, rolling her eyes, as she headed for the door.

"Have a good interview, Sweet Cheeks!" Tony, who lay on the couch in his boxer briefs, yelled to Ziva as she made her exit. "Bring me a 'NOW' picture, okay?" The door slammed in answer and Tony clicked on the TV, searching for the Ohio State game time.

-------------------------------------------

**Suburban Maryland, Saturday morning**

_Tony knows his stewardesses_, Ziva thought as she greeted Pepper Conrad. Nearly 60 now, the woman remained the same sexy, shapely, slim blonde from the photo -- with only a few laugh lines betraying her age. She was perhaps 15 pounds heavier than she had been in 1971 but, Ziva thought, it was amazing that she'd had a child and stayed so trim and fit in 40 years. Ziva was, frankly, impressed.

The women took a table at the chi-chi coffee shop Pepper had suggested for their meeting. Ziva noted her expensive jewelry and fine, designer clothing. Even her casual shorts and golf shirt were pricey.

Pepper, initially nervous, warmed to Ziva and talked about her life since the Hooper skyjacking. She'd married her husband, Peter, in 1972. Ten years her senior, he'd been a Northeast Atlantic pilot she'd been seeing for well over a year when the skyjacking took place. Peter had gotten her through the press coverage, the interviews, the nightmares in which she, for years, woke up screaming after seeing Hooper's face in those mirrored sunglasses, sipping his bourbon, chain-smoking his Raleighs. Hooper's deep, masculine, smooth voice haunted her still. Even now she could hear him clearly, telling her "I don't have a grudge against your airline. I just have a grudge." He'd also told her she was drop-dead gorgeous. "A real swell doll, baby" had been Hooper's exact words.

"Hooper was flirting with you?" Ziva asked. This hadn't been brought forth in the original interview.

"Oh, I don't know," Pepper said, laughing nervously. "Who knows what was on his mind? He just wanted his money, right?"

"Perhaps he wanted more," Ziva said, her dark eyes searching Pepper's face. Pepper quickly looked away. "Why didn't he keep the other stewardess on the plane in D.C.? She was released with the passengers. He wanted you to remain. Sitting with him. Did you not find that odd at the time?"

"I was terrified," Pepper snapped. "I wasn't really thinking about what was 'odd' or not." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Officer David -- Ziva. I didn't mean to be short with you. It's just..." Ziva noticed Pepper take a deep breath, as if she were trying to hold back her emotions.

Suddenly, Pepper looked her straight in the eye.

"I despise Don Hooper. For everything he's put me through for forty years." Then her voice softened and she looked out a nearby window. "And I still love him. After all these years, I still love the son of a bitch."

Ziva tried to contain her shock at this revelation. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to ask, in a calm voice, "You loved him? You had... a relationship... with Hooper?"

Tears streamed down Pepper's face, the sun illuminating them as she stared out the window at the young couples laughing on the coffee shop's patio.

"Yes," she said, her voice shaky. "My son... is his."


	18. Fallin' For You

Title: Fallin' For You  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Humor  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"I've been spending all my time/Just thinking about ya / I think I'm fallin' for you" - Colbie Caillat_

**-------------------- Fallin' For You ---------------------**

_On a Date Night, Tony confesses to Ziva that he noticed her at the café the night long ago when he was there on a date with another woman -- and he was scared to admit his real feelings for her at the time._

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Ziva arrived home from speaking with her contact in the Dan Hooper skyjacking case, Pepper Conrad, she was exhausted. After talking with the woman, Ziva had gone to the NCIS office, eager to write up the shocking revelation about Hooper fathering Conrad's son. But she didn't. She just couldn't bring herself to do it. So she sat in the office, alone, all afternoon and considered what she should do. There wasn't a ready answer.

Tony, who'd been napping on the couch, woke drowsily at the sound of Ziva's key in the lock. Ohio State had blown its game against USC and he'd been in a terrible mood all day. Ziva not being home had only made it worse. He'd been frustrated after the loss and wanted someone to gripe to, even though Ziva would've just muttered "Mmm-hmm" while Tony screamed about the terrible refereeing or how Southern Cal always got the lucky calls. She'd likely have read a book or studied some new recipe and not really cared about the Buckeyes' season tanking after one loss but to Tony, her presence was calming. Without Ziva there, Tony was left to sulk (and drink numerous beers) alone -- which he hated.

"Sweet Cheeks!" Tony chirped, sitting up on the couch. "Where you been? Interview take THAT long? She musta had a lot to say." He rubbed the back of his head and yawned.

"Oh, she had plenty to say, Tony," Ziva replied flatly, putting down her purse on the dining table. She flopped down beside him on the sofa, closing her eyes, sighing. "I will work on it Monday. Tonight, I am tired. It has been a long day."

"Yeah, no kidding," Tony muttered. "Buckeyes lost. Damn Trojans. Any team that could be confused with condoms shouldn't be allowed to play college football."

"But I thought you were a fan of... Trojans," Ziva said with a wry smile.

"Ha HA," Tony shot back, snarling. "You gotta stop hangin' out with Probie. You're getting as McSnarky as he is."

"Mmmm..." Ziva leaned her head on Tony's shoulder, already close to falling asleep. Tony studied her, a little concerned.

"You alright, Z?" he asked, kissing her forehead. "Sleepy, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm," Ziva sighed.

Tony kissed her again.

"Hmmm... Well, I was thinking we'd go out to dinner tonight," he said tenderly, "have a date night, y'know? But you're tired, baby, so..."

"I would just like to take a short nap," Ziva said, snuggling against Tony's chest. Yawning, she continued, "Then I will be fine. I would like to go out for dinner, actually. It has been a while since you and I went out on a date."

"Heh... Yeah, it has. We'll take care of that later," Tony said. "OK, let's get some beauty sleep." He laid back on the couch and Ziva snuggled against him. They were both asleep in minutes.

-------------------------------------------  
_  
**November 1942 - Morocco**_

_"You... uh... hungry... Hannah?" Anthony asked. They'd been sitting together in the outdoor plaza after leaving the smoky bar for nearly an hour and he was, frankly, in need of something to eat. It had been a long time since the meager breakfast he and his fellow troops ate that morning._

_"Quite," she said._

_"Well, I don't really know where to eat around here," Anthony said, chuckling. "I'm kinda new in town."_

_Hannah turned to face him, grinning slyly._

_"So I gathered," she teased. "There is a small café... next door to my hotel."_

_Anthony caught his breath. Her hotel..._

_"Sounds great," he said, trying to stay cool. "I'm starving."_

_"Mmmm... Starving? No. But hungry?" Hannah purred, "Now that... That is most obvious... Anthony."_

-------------------------------------------

Belga Café was packed when Tony and Ziva arrived but they were ushered right in.

"Ah, the power of reservations," Tony said with a smile as he and Ziva were seated. "God Bless America." Ziva smirked at him from across their table.

"You," she purred, "are amazing, my little hairy bear." Tony brought the back of her hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on her skin. Ziva studied the bustling scene around them in the café and sighed happily.

"Tell me something I don't know, Sweet Cheeks," Tony joked. The waiter came with water and menus and Tony ordered coffee for both of them while they studied the dinner entrees. "Man, it all looks great," he said, his green eyes roaming the menu. "I could eat a horse, I'm so hungry."

"Not among the chef's specials," Ziva said casually.

"It's an expression," Tony replied. "I wouldn't really eat a horse, Ziva."

"You would if you were truly in danger of starving," she rejoined. "It is not uncommon for people in desperate situations to eat that which they would normally avoid as food -- snakes, rats, scorpions, giant..."

"HO-HO-HO-KAY there, Martha Stewart!" Tony laughed, grimacing. "I got the point. And then some. Heh heh..." He shuddered, then quickly turned his attention to the menu. "You, uh, decide on something? That doesn't bite or squirm or require rabies shots?"

"Breast of chicken with braised Belgian endives and roasted fingerling potatoes," she replied, putting down the menu decisively. "You?"

"I'm going for the _Le Vrai Steak Belge_," Tony said haughtily. "Ohhh yeahhhhh... Gonna stretch the old palate's horizons tonight."

"That is the steak and fries, Tony," Ziva replied.

"True, my ninja," he agreed, "but it's BELGIAN steak and fries."

-------------------------------------------

_**November 1988 - Columbus, Ohio**_

_"How's this happen, Papa Tony? How do those damn BASTARDS come to OUR house and walk out with the win? Three points, Papa Tony. THREE POINTS!" Tony glowered into his beer (once again snagged with fake I.D.) at the Buckeye Bar. He'd been in a foul mood since Michigan, ranked 12th in the country, beat Ohio State earlier that day 34-31 to end a dismal season for the Buckeyes. They'd gone 4-6-1 and losing the home -- and season -- finale to their hated archrival sickened Tony, who was attending Ohio State just as his grandfather had in the late '40s. Papa Tony had flown to Columbus for the big game against Michigan from New York, where he now lived with Tony's Uncle Vincenzo._

_The old man, now 76, seemed particularly jaunty and in good spirits. The loss wasn't bothering him that much, Tony noticed, and he'd had a smile on his face since he'd arrived in town._

_"Ahhh, we'll get 'em next season, Anthony." His grandfather called him Little Anthony when Tony was a boy and still often used Tony's full name when they were together. "Relax, buddy! Enjoy the atmosphere! Have fun and soak it all up while you got the time." He patted Tony's hand. "It's just a game."_

_Tony choked on his beer._

_"Just a GAME! Papa Tony!" His green eyes were wide with disbelief at what he'd heard. "Ohio State-Michigan is NOT just a GAME! YOU taught me THAT! It's WAR! It's HATE-HATE! It's EVERYTHING!"_

_Anthony DiNozzo smiled at the young man sitting opposite him in the booth. It was like looking into a living mirror of the days when he'd been in his early 20s. Hannah remarked that if she didn't know color photography hadn't existed back then, she'd think the photos Anthony showed her of his Tony were pictures of HIM as a young man. Well, perhaps the strange clothing these kids today wore would give away the truth, she laughed. Also all that crazy hair gel the boy used, Anthony said jokingly. If her young granddaughter saw the pictures of such a handsome boy, Hannah teased, she would beg her father to attend American school in Ohio just for the chance to meet him and, oh, Eli would NOT be happy. He was already upset that the girl had taken an interest in boys. He missed the days when she liked them only because she could beat them. In games, sports? Anthony had asked. No, simply BEAT them -- with her fists to make them cry, Hannah replied. Anthony laughed out loud. Well, young Tony could sure use a girl like that someday to keep him in line, he'd said. Look how that worked out for me, he joked. Hannah punched him playfully, giggling before giving Anthony a long kiss._

_"Lemme tell you a secret, Anthony," the old man said, leaning over the table towards Tony. Tony moved close to hear him. "Me? I don't know nothin' about anything. Except this: You gotta enjoy your life, boy. Every minute. And you oughta find someone to enjoy it with you, someone you love with all your heart and who loves you back just as much. You do that and you'll see that all this other junk we worry about? Doesn't matter much. You meet a girl you know is the right one? You go GET her, buddy! You don't let her get away, you hear me? You don't wait around. Make your move. And you're gonna find the right girl, Tony. Someday you will. You'll know when you find her."_

_Tony stared at his grandfather. "You feelin' okay, Papa Tony? You... heh heh... you got a hot new girlfriend or somethin'?" He knew that his grandfather and grandmother's marriage had been a sham, a nightmare the old man lived through until Grandma Joan died back in 1977. Tony had been nine then and while he was sad that his grandmother died, he felt guilty for secretly being relieved that she wasn't around to yell at him or at Papa Tony anymore. Or to call his mother horrible names. Or tell his father what a loser he'd turned out to be. And now Papa Tony was talking about being in love? Okay..._

_But Papa Tony had just played around with a shiny silver ring that he'd recently taken to wearing on his right hand and smiled back at his grandson._

_Oh, what YOU don't know, buddy... The handsome older man kept his thoughts to himself, grinning as he looked down at his ring._

-------------------------------------------

Sipping his after-dinner coffee, Tony was unable to keep his eyes off Ziva. When he stared at her this way, she felt herself blushing. The attention made her at once oddly uncomfortable and yet wildly excited. And she loved the strange, conflicting feel.

"Tony," Ziva purred, taking a sip of her own coffee, mainly to steel herself against his smoky gaze, "what are you thinking?" Tony continued looking at her, his green eyes sparkling.

"That we should do this more often," he said. Finally, he looked away from Ziva, suddenly at a loss. "Also that I ... ah, forget it. Nothing."

"Tell me," Ziva teased, "or I will get it out of you later." She winked at him. He looked up at her and smiled. She sensed he wanted to tell her something important but was nervous about doing so. Ziva was never fooled by Tony's attempts to play it cool when he was holding back.

"OK," Tony sighed. "I was thinking that ... a couple months ago... I saw you out one night when I was on a date with this girl -- at a café downtown. We were outside and having dinner and ... you were by yourself, back in this little corner of the patio. I could just barely make you out, it was so dark where you were..."

Ziva remembered the night Tony spoke of. She'd never been able to forget how lonely she'd felt...

_Sitting alone at a small streetside café in downtown Washington, Ziva sipped her strong tea and feigned interest in the latest book her father had sent from Tel Aviv, this one a collection of essays by geopolitical scholars on the status of Israel's power position in the Middle East. Truthfully, she was tired of reading these types of tomes but doing so pleased her father and so she dutifully studied them._

_"And then there's McQueen saying 'You can keep the car.' That's it. The End."_

_The voice was unmistakable, so close that Ziva quickly hid her face behind the book. She scanned the café crowd, seeking him out. At a small table right by the street, she saw him. With just the dim light from the nearby street lamp and the small illumination provided by the lighting strung around the café's outside dining area, he nevertheless was as attractive as ever and Ziva found herself staring at him._

_Catching herself, she quickly made sure that he could not see her far back in a dimly-lit corner of the patio. From her relatively secure spot, she watched his evening unfold. He ordered an expensive bottle of wine, a small appetizer-type plate, some dessert and coffee as the night grew longer. There was plenty of laughing, leaning in closely to offer private comments or to catch whispered replies, some tender caressing of hands on the table, here and there a brief kiss -- never anything too showy or intimate, but suggestive nevertheless._

_When at last he left, she felt like a voyeur, as if she had witnessed something that wasn't for her to see. Much of it she really hadn't wanted to watch. And yet she couldn't turn away. She had to see it for herself, to know the truth of what happened during the hours they weren't together._

_Tony had been there at the café. With another woman. On a date._

_And now he'd left. With her. Maybe he was only taking her back to her apartment and the night would end with a kiss at the door._

_But more likely, the rest of Tony's night was only beginning._

_And hers would end soon as it did every night -- in bed, with one of her father's books, alone and feeling hopelessly lonely and invisible._

_Particularly so this evening._

"... and I wanted to go over and, I don't know, at least say 'hi' or invite you over to sit with us," Tony continued, bringing Ziva back from her thoughts. "But that girl... ahhhh, she was one of those chicks who wanted all the attention. I was ready for the night to end about ten minutes after we got there."

"Really?" Ziva asked. "The two of you seemed quite... cozy. You kissed her. I saw."

Tony leaned forward on the table, staring directly into Ziva's dark eyes.

"No," he said, "she kissed me. Chick was all over me. Couldn't keep her hands off me. Kept whispering in my ear about how we should go back to her place. Hell, I kept ordering wine and food and dessert and coffee -- anything -- so I could avoid taking her home. She was nuts. Look, I know everyone thinks I liked it when women came onto me and wanted me to sleep with them on the first date but... the truth is, I got tired of that, Ziva. I didn't just want to go out on a date and hit the sheets with some chick. Got old. Started feeling guilty about it, actually. I was looking for something real and... that's why I wanted to be with you that night after I saw you at the café. But I was kinda scared to come talk to you. Because back then I thought you just saw me as your partner... at work. The thing was... I was falling for you. I just... I didn't think you felt the same way."

Ziva took Tony's hand and stroked it.

"I wish you had come over to say hello," she said softly. "I would have liked that. Because I did feel the same way, Tony."

"Y'know, after I dropped that girl off -- had to practically run from the doorstep -- I came back here looking for you. Couldn't stop thinking about you," Tony said. "But you were gone. I was so damn mad at myself." He laughed quietly. "Missed my shot, I thought. Guessed I probably wouldn't get another chance like that again."

"And now," Ziva replied, "here we are."

"Yeah," Tony said, kissing her hand. "Glad I guessed wrong."

"As am I," Ziva said quietly. Now it was Tony's turn to blush. He cleared his throat.

"Well, uh..." Tony picked up the menu, scanning the dessert items. "You up for dessert, Sweet Cheeks? The, uh, flourless chocolate cake sounds reeeeeeeally bad for me. So you know that's what I want. You wanna share?" He grinned mischievously at Ziva, who returned his gaze with a sly look of her own. She nodded yes.

When the waiter returned, Tony gave the order -- one flourless chocolate cake. And, Ziva added, they'd need it ... to go.

"You don't wanna eat it here?" Tony asked huskily. He flashed her a sexy grin. She smiled.

"We will enjoy it later," Ziva answered. "When we are both... hungry again."

"_Definitely_ gotta have more date nights," Tony said, a broad smile crossing his face.


	19. Who Did You Think I Was?

Title: Who Did You Think I Was  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Humor  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"You got my number but I always knew the score / Who did you think I was?" - John Mayer_

-------------------- **Who Did You Think I Was** ---------------------

_Ziva confides to Tony the stunning news from Pepper Conrad and also shares her suspicion that their grandparents may have been lovers in World War II. But Tony doesn't want to think the world is quite that small._

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive home after Tony and Ziva's date night at Belga Café was uncharacteristically quiet and Tony wondered if something had changed between them somehow during the short time after dinner and when they started back to their apartment.

"Everything okay, Z?" Tony asked, sneaking a sideways glance at Ziva as he drove. "Quiet over there." He smiled tenderly.

"Oh, I'm... I'm fine, Tony," Ziva said. It was as if she'd been awakened from a strange sleep in which her eyes remained open and staring at the darkness outside the windshield. She patted his thigh reassuringly. "I am fine."

"Mmmm... Nah. Not buyin' it, David," Tony replied. "Spill it. What's kickin' around in that gorgeous head of yours?"

Ziva sighed and turned towards him in her seat.

"Today I learned something about the Hooper case that could perhaps bring us resolution," Ziva said cautiously.

"Well, hey!" Tony chirped. "That's great! What'd you find out?"

"That is the problem," Ziva said slowly. "The information benefits us... but it could destroy the lives of those it directly affects. I am not comfortable knowing what I know."

"Ooookaaaay," Tony said. "I'd help you but I don't... know what you... know. Y'know? You gotta fill me in, Ziva."

Ziva took a deep breath.

"Pepper Conrad says Hooper is the real father of her son."

Tony gripped the steering wheel tightly, swallowing hard.

"When will I learn that 'I am fine' means 'Don't Poke The Ninja'?"

And the rest of the drive was spent in complete silence.

-------------------------------------------  
_  
**November 2003 - New York City**_

_"Turns out the old man had a love nest in the city!"_

_Uncle Vincenzo couldn't keep from laughing._

_"A love nest?"_

_Tony was confused._

_"Yeah! C'mon, kid -- a love nest! You know, place where he... uh... enjoyed some female company?"_

_"Papa Tony 'enjoyed female company'?" Tony asked, truly surprised. "When? HOW?"_

_"Rented the studio over a little restaurant down in the Village for almost twenty years, right about after he moved out to Long Island with me," Uncle Vincenzo said, smiling at Tony over his beer as they sat in one of the B-Line Bar's small booths, toasting Anthony DiNozzo's memory one year after his funeral and wake. "Hey, I'm impressed! Makes sense now, Tony, how he was always goin' into Manhattan to visit that old friend of his who came to town a few times a year. Started out, he just went in November for a night and then he'd go for a couple weeks every month -- always spent the month after his birthday in July with his friend, never failed -- and that week of his Operation Torch mission in November... nothing kept him from making that trip into the city."_

_Vincenzo continued: "Bought a new suit every year for it -- expensive suit, too. Tailored. Fit him just so to show off the muscles. I swear he looked like I remember him when your dad and I were boys and he was young and workin' at the mill and he'd get all dressed up for Mass every Sunday. Ma never went; she didn't believe. But we did and my GOD, he looked great, Tony. Those women at St. Boniface were takin' extra dips of the Holy Water to cool themselves off when Pop brought us into the church, he was so good lookin'. And when he'd dress for that friend of his -- hell, let's just say it: the girlfriend -- it was like he'd stepped back in time and he was a young buck again."_

_"Whoever she was, she sure put a spring in the old man's step and a twinkle in his eye. He'd come home after their weeks away together and start singing in the shower -- all the old '40s songs he loved -- and, I tell you, he'd throw a huge steak on the grill and eat it rare in one sitting like he was starving. Heh... guess she really took it outta him. Knowin' him, she was probably some kinda chick! I never knew WHAT to think. I just thought he was recharged or whatever after havin' a little vacation from my ugly mug."_

_Vincenzo wiped a tear from his eye, but he was grinning._

_"I mean, the old man had the body of a guy half his age. Hell, he was in better shape than I was. Muscles hard as rocks. Washboard stomach. Barrel chest. Mind like a steel trap. Doctor said when the old man first started comin' to see him back when he moved to New York, the nurses used to fight over who was gonna stand in with him when he examined Pop for the yearly physical. They were always tryin' to sneak a peek... well... anyway, he finally hired a guy nurse to stop them gettin' so mad at each other, the nurses."_

_Tony laughed._

_"Well, yeah! Papa Tony was the ultimate DiNozzo man. Women are powerless to resist us."_

_Vincenzo sighed._

_"They got no problem tellin' me fuhgeddaboutit."_

_Tony glared at him, teasingly._

_"Not true, Uncle Vincenzo, and you know it." Tony's uncle was graying now. Years of hard work and long hours in his butcher shop were showing in his face. But he was still a handsome man. World-weary, but distinguished-looking. As a young man, he'd been a wolf with the women but when he'd started caring for his father he'd quit dating. Tony hoped he'd start again. Papa Tony had wanted Vincenzo to get married and have children. "He'd be a great father," the old man always said. "Kind heart in that one, like my own Papa had. Looks like him, too." Tony knew that Diamond, the 30-something single mom who lived upstairs from his uncle, was particularly fond of Mr. Vincenzo, as she called him. So was her four-year-old son, Marcus, who followed him around everywhere, Tony had noticed during his short stay at his uncle's. Diamond always had a smile for Uncle Vincenzo, who got noticeably nervous around her. Tony knew a crush when he saw one._

_Vincenzo, blushing, quickly changed the subject._

_"Yeah, well... I tell you, I'll never understand that heart attack, though, Tony. Doctor gave the old man a complete physical and said he was healthy as a horse for a guy 90 years old -- no cholesterol trouble, nothing with the prostate, no cancer, nothing at all -- in fact, the doctor told me later that Pop was... uh... more 'active' than most men his age normally were, know what I mean? Said he'd never seen anything like it in all his years of practicing medicine, a guy that old keeping at it so long; again, the girlfriend, I guess -- the heart was perfect, Tony. How about that, huh? Good for Pop! Can you believe it?"_

_Vincenzo laughed, taking a drink of his beer._

_Tony smiled, imagining Papa Tony and some hot young girl together. He ordered he and his uncle both another beer and finished off his first. Then he remembered the condom he'd found in Papa Tony's wallet and thought, Oh yeah... I can believe it, alright._

-------------------------------------------

Much later, at home, Ziva lay on the bed, hugging her pillow as she stared out the bedroom window. Tony, who'd been rooting around in the refrigerator for a snack, rejoined her, jumping onto the mattress and rolling over to hug her from behind.

"Ahhhhh..." Tony sighed happily, smacking his lips. "What have we learned tonight, my ninja? What... have... we... learned?" Ziva said nothing. "We've learned," Tony went on, "that chocolate cake? Does NOT need FLOUR! Ha HAH!" He snuggled closer to Ziva, who continued staring into the distance. "I saved your piece," Tony said softly. "The sacrifices I make for you, Sweet Cheeks."

Realizing that he wasn't going to break Ziva's solemn mood, Tony opted to lay off the joking.

"Still thinking about Pepper Conrad, baby? Look, we'll figure out something. We'll go to Gibbs with it Monday and he'll know what to do. He always does."

"Yes," Ziva said forlornly.

"Ziva," Tony said, pushing her dark hair back as he gently turned her towards him. "You sure all this is about the Hooper case?" He searched her face with his green eyes. "Honey, c'mon... talk to me. What's wrong? Is this... about what I told you earlier? About me seeing you at the café and not..."

"No, Tony," Ziva quickly answered, stroking his cheek. "No, no... that is not it." She smiled. "And I am not thinking about the Hooper case. Not anymore."

"Then what?" Tony asked. "Baby... please. Just tell me."

-------------------------------------------

_**November 1998 - Tel Aviv, Israel**_

_"Savta, you are going to see your American friend again?" Ziva asked, watching her grandmother brush her thick salt-and-pepper hair._

_"I am," Hannah David answered, studying her reflection in the mirror. Her plane for New York City was due to leave in only a few hours and she wanted to look her best._

_"This friend...," Ziva continued, smirking, "... is named?" The mystery of her grandmother's annual November trip to New York city, which the old woman never missed, intrigued Ziva and she was determined to find out just who her beloved Savta's dear 'friend' was._

_"You are a curious girl, Ziva," Hannah said, casting a wry glance at her granddaughter, just barely 20, via the mirror. "This quality serves you well in your studies now and will continue to do so throughout your life -- this, I know... but never let it become too dominant the part of your personality, my love." She smiled primly, putting in some small silver earrings. "Some things are meant to remain private."_

_Ziva moved to sit close to her grandmother._

_"Now, Savta, you know I will not share your secret with Father," Ziva said conspiratorially. "Or with Ari." She tenderly took the elderly woman's arm, linking it with her own. "Will you at least show me a photo of your friend? May I just see his face? Please?" She smiled brightly._

_"You assume my friend is a man," Hannah said, grinning mischievously herself. "And who is your source on this?"_

_"You are dressing so lovely for a woman?"_

_"What if I am?"_

_Ziva eyed her grandmother for a minute and then broke into giggles._

_"Savta..."_

_The old woman sighed, rolling her eyes. She said something to the heavens in Hebrew that made Ziva giggle even more and turned to her granddaughter, pinching Ziva's cheek lovingly. Reaching into her purse, she produced a mini-sized, well-worn leather photo holder. Hannah opened it carefully to the final page, handing it to Ziva._

_"That," she said, "is my American friend."_

_Ziva studied the aging black and white photo before her. She caught her breath at the sight of the young Army soldier in his dress uniform. From the wallet-sized picture, he stared at her with eyes that seemed to sparkle and a little smile played at his lips. Ziva couldn't help thinking that, whoever he was, he was easily the most attractive man she'd ever seen, even if the photo was obviously decades old._

_"He is certainly... handsome," she said. "How old is the photo, Savta?"_

_"We met during World War II, only for a brief time. We recently re-established contact after all these years. A lovely surprise." Hannah took the photo album from Ziva and examined the photo herself. She smiled at the young man's image._

_"Does he have family?" Ziva hoped the man wasn't completely alone in the world._

_"Oh, yes," Hannah replied. "He lives with his son near New York. Such a wonderful father -- and grandfather."_

_"He has grandchildren?" Ziva asked._

_"One grandson," Hannah said. "A police detective. He is so proud of that young man." Putting the album back in her purse, she patted Ziva's hand. "Enough, Ziva. It is time that we left for the airport." She caressed her granddaughter's cheek. "And I have told you too much already." Winking at Ziva, Hannah stood and began to gather her small carry-on bag. Ziva picked up her grandmother's suitcase._

_"Savta," Ziva said, "would you bring me back something from your trip? Please?"_

_"Of course, my love," Hannah answered, smiling. "What would you like?"_

_"A photo," Ziva replied, her dark eyes meeting her grandmother's. "of your friend's grandson -- the detective. If I am ever fortunate enough to visit America myself, I would like to know of at least one friendly face, perhaps."_

-------------------------------------------

"And the soldier in the photo looked exactly like you, Tony," Ziva said. "You can imagine how shocked I was to see that the soldier's grandson -- the police detective -- was his spouting image."

"Spitting image," Tony corrected, frowning at the information he was hearing.

"Images do not spit," Ziva said, looking confused.

"They don't spout, either," Tony replied. "OK, so what are you sayin' here, Z? That the photo your grandmother had in her purse was an old picture of my Papa Tony from his Army days in the '40s? And she brought you back a picture of me?" He grimaced, then laughed. "Nahhhh... No WAY! C'mon..."

"Tony, I swear to you," Ziva said, sitting up in the bed. "YOU were the man in the photo my grandmother brought back from her New York trip. I still have that picture."

"Oh yeah?" Tony challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where? Let's see it."

"My father has that photo album along with some other older belongings of mine," Ziva sighed. "I can ask him to send it here but I cannot guarantee that he will do so. He is... busy, as you know."

"Well, I'll believe it when I see it," Tony sniffed.

"I have been thinking that our grandparents shared a connection of some sort ever since you showed me your grandfather's letter from his female friend -- H?" Ziva continued, cautiously. "My grandmother's name was Hannah. Perhaps she was the woman writing to him... about the night they spent together during World War II."

"Yeah, right. I mean, Ziva, seriously," Tony laughed mockingly, "... the idea that your grandmother and my Papa Tony knew each other? Or they were..." He laughed again, obviously uncomfortable with the thought. "It's just... it's CRAZY!" Shaking his head in disbelief, Tony snickered again.

Now Ziva was getting angry.

"Thank you for your confidence in me," she said, turning back towards the window and away from Tony.

"Aw, Ziva, come on," Tony whined, staring at her back. He sighed, knowing he'd gone too far in discounting her story. "Ziva... Baby, I'm sorry. Don't be mad. Please? Ziva... Ziva!"

Ziva closed her eyes. She would talk to Tony tomorrow but tonight she didn't want to continue their conversation. She was certain of her memories. She'd cherished the picture of the attractive American detective her grandmother had given her, keeping it in a safe place for so many years while she learned all she could about him, and now that they were together finally he wasn't willing to believe that maybe they'd destined to meet. _You will see, Tony_, Ziva thought as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Beside her, Tony lay staring at the ceiling, miserable at having ruined his perfect date night with Ziva. He'd make it right tomorrow, he swore to himself. But something bigger troubled him, something that wouldn't let him relax:

_What if she's right?_


	20. You Must've Been A Beautiful Baby

Title: You Must've Been A Beautiful Baby  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Drama  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"Does your mother realize / The stork delivered quite a prize / The day he left you on the family tree?" _

**-------------------- You Must've Been A Beautiful Baby ---------------------**

_Tony, still uncomfortable with the idea of his grandfather possibly being linked in any way with Ziva's grandmother, makes a mysterious call for moral support._

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before Ziva woke up, Tony was already out the door. Her insistence that his beloved Papa Tony and her grandmother, Hannah, may have been lovers during his grandfather's World War II days were just too upsetting for him to deal with. And he didn't want to face Ziva, frankly, at the moment. Rehashing it all wasn't his idea of how to greet the day.

And so Tony sped down the road as fast as legally possible in his vintage Mustang, eventually whipping the car into a parking space at his favorite coffee shop. He hurried inside, ordered, sat down and closed his eyes as he let his coffee cool. The scone he'd purchased sat on its plate, untouched. He couldn't get the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, Ziva was onto something out of his mind and it was driving him crazy.

Plucking his cellphone from his jacket pocket, Tony punched some numbers, put the phone to his ear and waited. Finally, someone answered.

"Hey, it's Tony," he said. "Sorry to wake you up, but I just really need to talk. You got a minute?"

-------------------------------------------

_**November 2003 - Columbus, Ohio**_

_After Papa Tony's funeral and the wake, Tony and his Uncle Vincenzo repaired to the Buckeye Bar for some family time. They'd invited Tony's father to go with them for dinner -- his choice of restaurants -- but he'd politely declined. Vincenzo had been noticeably hurt that his younger brother, who had distanced himself from the family for years, wouldn't join them. But he tried to understand. Danny was a recovering alcoholic and his relationship with Tony was tense. It had been a stressful day for Danny, facing his son and brother again at his father's services, and he probably just wanted to get away from all the painful memories Columbus, their hometown, held for him._

_It was strange, Vincenzo thought to himself as Tony drove them the short distance to the bar, how their mother favored Danny as a baby and had always been cold towards him. He never understood why. But as he grew older, he felt sorry for Danny being their mother's 'favorite.' It meant he got all of her attention -- the smothering, the clinging she'd once forced on their father, the demands on Danny's time, the harsh criticism as Danny turned from a boy to a young man. Vincenzo was never on her radar. Their mother barely acknowledged his presence in the house. She insisted on calling him "Vincent," a nickname both he and his father hated, and in her more bitter moments openly questioned if the nurses hadn't made a baby switch in the nursery when he was first brought to her._

_"Really, Vincent, I wonder... You don't look like that father of yours and you certainly don't look like me," his mother would say in that snide tone of hers. "Sometimes I think the nurses must've kept our real little boy and given him to someone else. I honestly do." His father, normally a quiet man who simply ignored his wife's outbursts, would lose his temper whenever she said this and Vincenzo swore his mother got some sort of perverse pleasure from baiting him this way. She would only sip her vodka, smile bitterly and then call that friend of hers -- some guy named Johnny -- when their dad would grab Vincenzo and Danny and take his boys out for ice cream to make up for their mother's cruelty._

_Their father had always shown his boys equal loving attention, perhaps trying to give Danny some special care because of the way his mother treated him. Vincenzo didn't mind; he, too, had always felt sorry for Danny and had felt compelled to protect him from their mother. When Danny was little, he'd adored his father and big brother. Everywhere they went, everything they did, Danny tagged along and Anthony and Vincenzo were happy to show off the cute, smiling boy who had a laugh that brightened up a room. "That's my DADDY! That's my BIG BROTHER!" Danny would say to everyone. Anthony took his boys to Buckeye Steel often, introducing them to the men he worked with as "My little lugnuts -- soon, they're gonna be twice as strong as their old man. Ohio State's next fullback and quarterback here, I tell you!" The boys would blush with pride when the men asked them to show off those muscles that were gonna bring the Buckeyes the title one day. Danny would flex his little arm and Anthony would feel his tiny bicep, saying "Strong like a bull, this one. There's a pretty cheerleader in his future for sure!" Vincenzo would bow up like Charles Atlas in the comic book ads he saw and his father would laugh good-naturedly. "My junior ox here's gonna run that ball like Michigan's never seen. And HE likes the smart girls. Already got in trouble at school for kissing a little cutie in glasses. Made her cry! But then SHE kissed HIM and HE had to bang erasers all afternoon." The men would laugh and laugh, tousling the boys' hair._

-------------------------------------------

"Man... I never knew that...," Tony said. "She really said that to you, huh? And what'd you say back? Oh... But why was it YOUR fault? I don't... Ohhhh... Okay... Ahhhh... Got it. Makes sense, then. Heh heh heh..."

Tony chuckled, sipping his coffee.

"Guess you couldn't really win that one with her, right?" He paused and the smile slipped from his face. "Right. Oh... no, no -- right, right... I gotcha. It was never a war. Sure."

-------------------------------------------

_**1966-67 -- Columbus, Ohio**_

_The fullback dreams died when Vincenzo suffered a terrible knee injury in the state title game his senior season. The Ohio State scholarship he'd earned was pulled. But he and his father understood. Another deserving and healthy kid should get his chance. So Vincenzo, having just turned 18, enlisted in the Army and was ordered off to Vietnam. Danny, nearly 16, was crushed at the thought of his brother, his idol, his protector, leaving home._

_"Maybe I could quit school and go in the Army with you," Danny had said desperately as Vincenzo packed for the trip to his basic training camp. "I hate school and the Army sounds neat." Vincenzo had been a straight-A student; Danny tried to make good grades but struggled no matter how much his brother and father tried to help. "He's DUMB," their mother would say. "No fixing THAT." Vincenzo once heard his Grandmother Benson, his mom's mother, say that if her Joan hadn't made the mistake of getting mixed up with that DiNozzo creature who was so beneath her, she'd had been able to finish her courses at Ohio State and go on to medical school. What a fine doctor you would have made, Joan, Grandmother Benson would say to her only daughter, but you just threw it away on 'that man,' as she called his father. Vincenzo and Danny didn't like Grandmother Benson. She hated Anthony and apparently had hated her former husband._

_The boys never met their Grandfather Benson. He'd been a bootlegger who was shot to death by 'some whore he had a history with,' they heard their mother say. Joan had been close to her father despite his 'business' and had never gotten over his murder. Anthony once told Vincenzo, after Joan's death, that she blamed him for her father's murder because he'd accidentally discovered that Mr. Benson was running booze when he tried selling it illegally to Anthony's OSU fraternity. The 'whore' Mr. Benson 'had history with' was the woman who'd owned the Buckeye Bar back then. She and Anthony were close and he'd told her what happened with Mr. Benson. The woman, Janie, had confronted Benson about selling dangerous liquor to the local boys and when he'd threatened her, she shot and killed him. Since nobody actually saw Janie shoot Benson, she was never convicted of the murder and Joan despised her. But Joan never really forgave Anthony for telling Janie about her father, he said, and she inflicted payback every day of their marriage -- on her husband, on her sons and eventually, through her youngest son in the way he treated his son, Tony._

_Vincenzo left for training and eventually for his two tours in Vietnam. Danny stayed home and barely made it through high school. As terrible a student as he was, he was worse at sports. He'd tried to play baseball and football like Vincenzo but the coaches would always cut him immediately. There would be no Ohio State scholarship, in sports or academics, for Danny. His interests were limited to cars and girls. And, Vincenzo had started noticing just before leaving home, Danny was starting to drink._

_"Cut that drinking out, Danny," Vincenzo had told him, "or you could end up like Ma." Danny had just laughed it off and said no way would he ever drink like HER -- he was just having a beer sometimes with his friends, that was all. Please don't tell Dad, Vince. Like their mom, Danny had taken to calling him Vince. But because Vincenzo loved his brother, he allowed it and their father followed suit._

_Once Vincenzo was gone, Danny changed. He took out his anger and resentment on their father and said his brother abandoned him in that house with a father who was nothing but a poor steel mill worker and a mother who was a cruel drunk. This friend of their mom's, this Johnny guy, flashed money at Danny and filled his head with big dreams of being rich without having to work hard for what he wanted. Johnny's wealth came from having parlayed his job as a Columbus Police detective into a choice policeman's union executive position. "People say talk is cheap," he'd told Danny, "that's CRAP, kid. WORK is cheap -- talk's everything. Talk and charm, baby -- that's the ticket to having it all."_

_When a girl -- a swell-looking blonde named Paddington from New York whose father was British and whose mother was from Long Island -- came to visit Ohio State the weekend of Danny's high school graduation, Danny figured it was time to try out Johnny's suggestions. The girl came to a beer blast he and the other seniors were having with her girlfriend, one of Danny's classmates who'd never given Danny time of day. Danny laid on the charm thick and by the end of the night, this girl was hanging all over him. By the time he got her into his beat-up Mustang, the one he'd had to save up for working as Johnny's messenger boy the previous summer after rejecting his father's offer of a summer job at the steel mill, she was drunk and ready for sex. So he put her in the back seat and they spent the night there together. It had been Danny's first time but he pretended like he had plenty of experience. She was too drunk to notice, anyway. He was drunk, too, but he could tell she'd been around the block before and he felt strangely disappointed that he wasn't her first. Once again, he was just some other guy -- nobody special._

-------------------------------------------

"It's just," Tony went on into the cellphone, "she's not listening to ME on this. You know Ziva -- she gets something in her head and that's that. End of discussion. She's gonna prove she's right."

Tony listened for a few minutes, nibbling his scone, then sighed.

"True, but..." He sighed again. "Honestly, maybe I don't want her to be right. Not on this. It's just too... weird."

"Life's weird, DiNozzo," a strong masculine voice from behind Tony in the coffee shop said. "Doesn't mean ya can pretend it's not the truth. Like I told ya, Shannon was the same way -- always knew more than I did about what was right and what was wrong. Better listen to what Ziva says." Tony turned to see Gibbs standing next to his chair. Gibbs snapped his cellphone shut and Tony did the same.

"Oh... Hi, Boss," Tony said softly. "Thought you were at home."

"I was," Gibbs said. "I'm not now."

"They've got great coffee here," Tony said, lifting his cup.

"Works for me," Gibbs said, heading towards the coffee bar. "Save me a seat. And some of that scone."


	21. Gotta Have You

Title: Gotta Have You  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"Gray, quiet and tired and mean / Picking at a worried seam" -- The Weepies_

**-------------------- Gotta Have You ---------------------**

Tony and Ziva continue bickering over whether their grandparents' possible romance but find themselves even more shocked when they learn of another more recent, even more secretive love affair between two people close to them.

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Because she was so engrossed in what she'd found in the large box she'd been rummaging through all afternoon, Ziva didn't even hear Tony enter their apartment or sneak up behind her. And when he leaned down to plant a sweet kiss on her neck, she jumped.

"Tony!" Ziva said, clearly startled. "I did not hear you come in. You frightened me." Tony's green eyes went wide with surprise.

"I frightened YOU?" he said, grinning broadly. "Ha HAH! YES! At LAST! I am the SNEAKER and YOU are the SNEAKEE!" Tony plopped down on the couch next to Ziva. He stuck out his tongue and laughed. "DiNozzo One, Ninja ZERO!" Ziva responded only with a wry smirk.

"You are a sneaker, Tony?" Ziva replied, continuing to sift through the contents of the box. "That explains the smell." Tony grimaced and sniffed his armpits.

"I was at the _GYM_, Sweet Cheeks," Tony said defensively, "Stayin' in shape for you. Check out these pecs. Like what'cha see? Hey, look at my new muscle." He flexed his right arm, bodybuilder-style. Ziva rolled her eyes. "C'mon," Tony pleaded, "feel it." Ziva reached over, fondling Tony's upper arm. "Ohhhh yeaaah... Ha HAH!" he laughed, smiling from ear to ear. "Who's packin' the BIG guns NOW, huh? HUH? Heh heh heh..."

"My big, strong furry bear," Ziva purred. "Apparently, you take after your Papa Tony. My grandmother's papers describe him as quite a physical specimen -- and not just when he was a young man." Tony's smile faded.

"What're you talkin' about? C'mon, Ziva, not THAT again!" Tony groaned, frowning. "A couple weeks ago we said we'd let all that go! Why're you bringin' it up now?"

"Actually, Tony, YOU said you were letting it go," Ziva countered. "I agreed to no such thing. And you ALSO said you were fine with it. In fact, YOU challenged me to prove that our grandparents might have been involved. Remember?"

"Oh yeah," Tony said, lying back on the couch. He closed his eyes. "But to be fair, I think I was also watching Purdue beat Ohio State. And I was mad as hell about that. And I was drunk. Really drunk. So drunk I don't even remember us having sex that night. Did we have sex that night? We had sex that night, right? Because why else would I wake up handcuffed to the bed like... that?" Tony frowned, raising an eyebrow at the memory of waking up naked in red fuzzy handcuffs, his "GO BUCKS" pennant flag between his teeth. Ziva had only come into the bedroom, snapped a quick picture of him and then headed out for her morning six-mile run, laughing out loud as she left the apartment.

"Be that as it may," Ziva continued, "I had my father send this box from Tel Aviv. It contains my grandmother's papers and keepsakes, which she left to me when she passed away just before I joined NCIS." Ziva's expression turned somber. "_Savta_ was in good health... I still cannot understand why she died. One night she simply went to bed, fell asleep and never woke up. The doctors could not explain it. They could find no medical reason. But she was never quite the same after our trip to..." Ziva stopped herself, remembering the odd visit to Ohio she'd taken with her grandmother only a couple of years before she'd been sent to NCIS, the trip to the cemetery where she'd seen Tony from a distance as her grandmother spoke with him. "Well," she continued softly, "her final years were ... quiet." Ziva studied an old photo of her grandmother, Hannah, as a young woman. It was like looking at a black and white picture of herself. She recalled how Hannah had withdrawn somewhat after her American friend died. The old woman grieved him every day until her own death and Ziva wondered if she hadn't frankly willed herself to join him in Heaven.

Tony was staring at Ziva from his place on the couch.

"OK, fine," he said at last. "I won't say it COULDN'T have happened -- if you won't say it DID happen for sure. UNTIL we can prove it." Tony sat forward and rifled through the box. A dark red hardcover journal caught his eye and he plucked it from the papers and photos.

"Well, well, well..." Tony said, opening the journal carefully. His eyes scanned the neat, black-ink handwriting on the first page. "Let's see what we got HERE." He settled back onto the couch, ready for a good read. "July 2004," Tony read aloud, "My Bahamas junket turned out much differently than I had planned, even though I knew that I would be seeing..." He stopped and stared at the page.

"That what?" Ziva said brightly. "Come on, Tony, do not leave me dangling. And whose journal is that?" She knitted her brow, confused. "I have never been to the Bahamas."

"It's 'hanging,' Ziva..." Tony muttered, his face now stony as he read the words in the journal. His throat tightened. His breathing grew shallow. The story unfolding before him sent a jolt through his body. It couldn't be true. There was just no _way_.

He couldn't believe it was true.

He couldn't _let_ himself believe it could be true.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**July 2004 -- Bahamas**_

_Kate Todd felt somewhat guilty as she applied more sunblock to her shoulders and arms. After all, she was always giving Tony hell about how he didn't seem to care about his personal health. The way he avoided exercise like the plague, his horrendous eating habits, how he hit the sheets with anything in a skirt -- they were all subjects about which Kate regularly read Tony the riot act and, frankly, she enjoyed doing so. But now, here she was, sunning herself on a Bahamas beach in hopes of getting a nice tan. God, I'm shallow, Kate thought, setting the sunblock bottle down. Note to self, she mentally added. Never let DiNozzo get his hands on ANY pictures from this trip._

_I'm ruining my skin, she thought, and possibly setting myself up for worse skin problems later in life. Kate sighed. You're a hypocrite, Todd, she silently told herself. But she'd spent so many long hours in the NCIS office... Oh, so what? She had two weeks all to herself -- no McGee asking her Probie questions ten times a day; no gruesome cases to solve; no Tony sneaking through her personal items or bragging about how he could relieve all her stress in just one night (if she knew what he meant -- and she always did); and no Gibbs barking at her to grab her gear. OK, so maybe she missed Gibbs. And Abby. And Ducky. And, yeah, McGee, too. But NOT Tony!_

_Kate reached for her bottle of sunblock so she could apply it to her legs, only to find it missing. Pulling down her sunglasses, she studied the area in the sand where she'd nestled the bottle next to her beach chair._

_It was JUST there, she thought. What the hell? I'm not crazy. I know I put it right..._

_"SPF 30," a strong, flat, thickly-accented masculine voice intoned from behind her. This particular accent sent a cold chill down Kate's spine. It was unmistakable. "Now how do you expect to tan using such a product as this that keeps the sun from working its natural magic on your incredibly lovely skin... Caitlin?" Without turning around, Kate steeled herself for the confrontation she knew was coming. She felt the strange mix of fear coupled with excitement that always came whenever she saw him. And while she told herself she despised him and that she never wanted to see him again after everything he'd done to her, to her friends at NCIS, she knew she was a liar. She always wanted to see him again._

_"You'll put my sunblock right back where you found it if you know what's good for you, you son of a bitch," Kate hissed, trying to control her breathing. Why did he have this effect on her? Damn him. And now here he was, looking at her in a bikini. Great._

_"Since when have I ever known what is good for me?" The man didn't replace the sunblock. Instead, he slowly moved from where he'd been standing behind Kate to show himself to her. She silently thanked God for her mirrored sunglasses at that moment so he couldn't see her staring at his body, although she was sure he somehow knew she was doing exactly that. Because it was just what he wanted her to do. Nothing about her got past him, dammit. He looked incredible to her -- tall, lanky and muscled in all the right places. She loved his short, close-cropped hair, the angles of his face, how he always managed to sport the kind of sexy stubble that made most men just look like they needed a shave, those dark brown eyes of his that seemed to laugh at her. He had laughing eyes, dammit. His tanned skin let Kate know he'd been enjoying plenty of time on plenty of beaches, if not this particular one. Probably with plenty of women, she thought and then chastised herself for feeling jealous of him. Who cared what he did? His trim red swim trunks weren't too loose nor too tight, hugging his hips perfectly. Kate didn't want to look at him but she couldn't stop herself. As usual, he was taking control of the situation and she was letting him. Why was it always like this? It wasn't like this with any other man she'd ever known._

_He sat on her beach chair, taking a place at her feet. Flashing a mischievous smile at her, he waved the bottle of sunblock teasingly._

_"Your legs appear ... unprotected, Caitlin." His dark brown eyes traveled the length of her legs, then further up her body. She hurriedly crossed her arms over her breasts to shield them but it was too late. "May I be of assistance?" She watched as he squeezed a small bit of the white sunblock onto his long, tanned fingers, grinning at her. Why were his teeth perfect? And always so damn sparkly? That just wasn't right. At all._

_"Lay those fingers on me," Kate said, seething with all the false anger she could force herself to muster, "and you'll be the one needing assistance. Like, when I put you in a full body cast." The man laughed out loud at this and Kate shivered. Secretly, the sound of his laughter always turned her on. She hated that. She also hated that, really, she wanted his hands on her -- her legs, her hips, her arms, everywhere._

_"That will not happen," he said huskily, "because I know..." his fingers caressed Kate's strong calves and she couldn't keep from moaning slightly, "... that you do not want to hurt me ..." now he massaged the tender area behind Kate's knee with his thumb and she bit her lip, "... any more than I want to hurt you." The man's strong hands moved up to caress the inside of Kate's thighs. She gasped at his touch, shocked that he was so boldly making a move on her -- and more so that she wasn't even trying to resist. "And I would never..." he massaged her thighs harder, having now moved to her side, pressing his body against hers in the chair, "... hurt you, Caitlin." His face now just inches from hers, Kate had to force herself to keep from kissing him._

_"I should... go back to my hotel room now," she stammered, unsure of what to do. He always made her nervous and unsteady. "It's... It's hot out here." The man smiled, staring at her with his smoky eyes._

_"Yes," he agreed, "it has become quite... steamy. Perhaps a nice, cool shower would relax you." He got up from the chair, extending his hand to Kate. She looked at him for a moment, then took his hand. He pulled her gently to her feet. "Please allow me to escort you to your room," he said, his breath hot in her ear as he moved behind her, slipping his long arms around her slender waist. "It is not safe for a woman to travel alone. You can never be sure what dangerous sort of man might be lurking, waiting to take advantage... Caitlin."_

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"Ari and _Kate_? ARI AND KATE?!!!" Tony couldn't control his anger. "No damn WAY! No WAY Kate was screwing around with your ... your BASTARD MURDERER BROTHER! He KILLED her! What the HELL?!!!" He grabbed the journal and hurled it across the living room, sending it careening off the wall. Ziva's dark eyes were wide with fear and, frankly, anger at hearing Tony's words about Ari.

"I KNOW that you HATE Ari, Tony, but he WAS my brother! My ... my ... BASTARD MURDERER BROTHER, as you call him!" She choked out her words, her breath coming in gasps. "I am as shocked as _you_ that he apparently had an affair with Agent Todd and..."

"That's a DAMN LIE!" Tony yelled. "Ari's LYING! Kate NEVER slept with him! NEVER! I'll NEVER believe that!" He glared at Ziva in disbelief. "And you DO? My GOD, Ziva!!! You DO!!!" His green eyes flashed with the most intense anger Ziva had ever seen in Tony.

"You did not KNOW Ari as I did!" Ziva screamed back defensively. "He was NOT a cold-blooded KILLER! He was working _undercover_ for Mossad as Michael was... I KNOW that he MUST have been! There can be NO OTHER..."

"RIVKIN AGAIN?!!!" Tony slammed his fist down on the dining table. "DAMMIT, ZIVA, I DON'T EVER WANNA HEAR HIS NAME IN OUR HOUSE, YOU UNDERSTAND ME? NOT EVER!!!" His face red with fury, Tony grabbed Ziva's arm, yanking her towards him. She found herself too stunned to react. Tony had never acted like this before, not with her. "And don't you ever... EVER..." he hissed "...tell me that Kate and Ari were _lovers_. Not now. Not _ever_." Pushing Ziva away, Tony stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Ziva massaged her arm and stood, alone, in the silence of the apartment. It took a few minutes before she seated herself on the sofa and let the tears stream freely down her face.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**July 2004 - Bahamas**_

_Nobody can ever find out, Kate told herself. They wouldn't understand -- none of them would, not even McGee or Abby. Tony would hate her and for once he'd be on the right side of things. Ducky wouldn't be able to forgive her; to him this would be so hurtful after everything they'd been through, after what had happened to Gerald. And Gibbs... Kate rolled over, clutching her pillow as she stared into the dim light of the room. Gibbs would just... she didn't know, really. There would just be nothing left there and she knew she couldn't take that._

_The thing was, she didn't understand what had just happened -- not completely. She just knew that he had seen her back to her hotel room. She'd let him inside. That was hours ago, when it was still daylight. Now it was night and here they were in her bed, completely exhausted from... everything she had fantasized about since the night she'd been unable to kill him that first time she'd met him, when he'd taken her hostage along with Ducky and Gerald. Those fantasies had left her feeling guilty; now she just felt absolutely satisfied. Confused, but satisfied. Kate had imagined that if anything ever happened between them it would be amazing but she hadn't been prepared for the reality of being with him. She was spent; but so was he. __Never HEARD a guy snore like that, she thought, chuckling. __Really put him down for the count, I guess._

_She heard him groan in his sleep, felt his strong, warm arm around her slim waist. He unconsciously pulled her to him and the feel of his body against hers relaxed Kate._

_"You cannot sleep, Caitlin?" he asked, his voice deep and husky. She felt his lips wet on her neck._

_"No," she sighed. Rolling over to face her lover, Kate pressed seductively against him. He reacted as she knew he would and she smirked playfully. "Would you like to be... of assistance?" Raising an eyebrow tantalizingly at him, she pulled him into a heated, long kiss._

_And throughout the rest of the night, as they made love again and again, Kate learned many things about Ari Haswari -- secrets she wasn't sure she could, or should, believe. But he swore to her that they were true and that someday, when his deep undercover Mossad mission ended and the terrorist cell he was 'training' was completely destroyed, all would be explained by his father. He would do whatever it took to make amends with her friend Gerald and the rest of her NCIS colleagues. Shooting that man had been a horrible mistake, he told her. He regretted it every day. At that time, he hadn't been certain he could trust anyone at NCIS; now he knew that he could trust her. But she had to trust him as well, just play along for now, keep pretending to hate him for the 'terrorist' he was. There would be a day when they could be together, he told Kate, and that was what sustained him through his darkest, loneliest hours. He would make everyone understand that it was all a ruse, just as she now knew. There were no other women, despite his bragging. He swore this to her and it touched Kate that Ari worried she thought he was cheating on her._

_"I love you, Caitlin. I do. Please believe me," Ari whispered, his lips against hers. "I would never hurt you. Never. I would die for you before I would let anything happen to you."_

_"I love you, too, Ari," Kate whispered back, kissing him. "But don't go dying on me, OK? It would give Tony too much pleasure." They shared a tender laugh as Kate rested her head on Ari's shoulder, stroking his chest, before they both finally drifted off to sleep. _

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Driving at breakneck speed in his vintage Mustang, Tony pounded his hands against the steering wheel. He had a hard time seeing the road as he wiped back tears.

Everything in his life was suddenly falling apart -- and just when he'd gotten it together.

His NCIS career was going great.

He'd found Ziva, his soulmate, at last. They were happy. At least they'd been happy.

And now all this.

His grandfather, Papa Tony. Ziva's grandmother. Lovers.

Maybe.

His partner, Kate, who Tony had loved like the sister he'd never had. And Ziva's brother, Ari, the terrorist assassin who murdered Kate while Tony stood by helplessly.

Lovers.

It was too much. Too much to process. He just needed to take a drive -- a nice, long, fast drive. Just let it all go for a while until he could think it through. Or start to even try to think it through.

_Why?_ Tony thought, the neon streetlights racing past his windshield. _Why me? Why NOW? Why..._

And that was the last thing Tony thought before slamming on the brakes as the car began to skid out of control, his hands furiously gripping the wheel as he turned it, trying desperately to right the Mustang before he felt it begin to flip over.


	22. Who Says

Title: Who Says  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"Who says I can't be free / From all of the things that I used to be / Rewrite my history / Who says I can't be free" -- John Mayer_

**-------------------- Who Says ---------------------**

Ziva blames herself for Tony's accident and his resulting condition. Meanwhile, Tony has an out-of-body experience as he hangs between life and death -- and his guide is someone who seems to have all the answers to his many questions.

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_  
"Hey, look! That doctor's getting out a drill. Mmmm... he's... kinda hot. I don't know... a little too blonde and pretty. Ken Doll-looking. Not my type. Yours, maybe? Heh heh heh... Oh my GOD, he's drilling into your HEAD! Please... like THAT's gonna be the one thing that finally gets through that thick skull of yours? That guy needs to go back to med school."_

_Tony knew this voice, deep yet feminine. It had taunted him, mostly in good humor, for a little over two years at NCIS. It was the voice most men might associate with their mother or that one girlfriend who always knew what was really best for a guy, even if he never wanted to hear it. But to him, even though he'd always teased her about how they should hit the sheets and 'work out' their differences, this voice was like a sister's. It teased him but it meant well. In it, there was real emotion, real care for him -- something he'd never really heard in most womens' voices where he was concerned. Sure, Paula and Jenny and Abby -- they all cared about him, loved him in their own special ways. They really did. Maybe Jeanne did, too, although over the past few months he'd started wondering if she'd loved him as much as she said she did. Something about their relationship, more and more, nagged at him; something kept hinting to him that Jeanne had been lying, too -- holding something back from him just as he'd held back from her._

_But this voice... this voice loved him. Only this voice and Ziva's loved him on a level that went deeper than friendship. Ziva's voice melded friendship with true love, real passion, undying loyalty and the bond between them that he knew, no matter their problems of late, would never be broken. Hers was the voice of a soulmate._

_The voice speaking to him now, right behind where he stood watching a team of surgeons furiously working on his battered body in an operating room, was the voice of friendship and family. This was the voice of the sister he'd never had. This voice had always challenged him to be a better man than he was and he'd become that man, finally, after the voice had been forever silenced. He missed this voice every day. Because he still needed to hear it, needed it to keep him in line. This voice, given the chance to echo Ziva's, would take him to a level even he couldn't dream of reaching. He'd often imagined how she and Ziva would get along -- probably like two peas in a pod -- and how he'd get the stereo effect of their shared voices reminding him to stay on the right track._

_"Think they'll find anything in there, Tony?" Kate said, elbowing him in the ribs. "Like, maybe, a brain?" He turned to face his old friend, who met him with that familiar knowing smirk of hers._

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"Boss, you gotta help me," McGee said desperately. "Both of them, they just -- they won't listen to me. I tried telling them the surgeons are doing everything they can for Tony but..."

"It's OK, McGee," Gibbs quietly replied, laying a hand on Tim's shoulder. "Ya did your best." He handed him a crisp $20 bill. "Coffee for everyone. Caf-Pow for Abs. Whatever you want extra for gettin' here first."

"Ducky's on his way. Jimmy, too. Vance is flyin' in on the red-eye from L.A." He took a deep breath. "Tony's gonna make it, right?" Tim's gentle eyes searched Gibbs' worn face, which betrayed nothing. He knew Gibbs couldn't really answer but asking seemed like the natural thing to do.

"Coffee, McGee," Gibbs whispered. His ice blue eyes fixed on Abby, who sobbed openly as she held Ziva in her arms. Tears streamed down Ziva's face, which was otherwise a mask of stone.

"Oh, Gibbs!" Abby sobbed, her large eyes red from crying. She leapt up and hugged him tightly. He embraced her back, patting her back as a father would to comfort a small child. Ziva sat, shellshocked, staring at the doors across the room under a large sign reading "SURGERY." Gibbs gently got Abby to sit beside him as he took the seat next to Ziva. Abby sniffled, putting her head on his shoulder, clutching his arm. With his free hand, he took Ziva's hand in his.

"The emergency room doctor said the EMTs on scene told him the car nearly rolled over," Ziva told Gibbs, her voice hoarse and devoid of any emotion. "But Tony was able to right it at the last moment. Still, he hit a stand of trees. And that is what caused his injuries." She swallowed hard, forcing herself to go on. "The ER doctor also said Tony has suffered a serious head injury. I signed a form authorizing them to perform the... necessary measures to relieve the pressure on his... his brain." Abby sobbed and Ziva wiped her eyes. "He has a fractured skull and..."

"...epidural hematoma," Ducky said, concern evident on his face as he walked up, joining the group. He sat on the other side of Ziva. "A collection of blood between the dura and the skull. The collection of blood places pressure against the brain, which can cause the brain to malfunction." He stopped himself, realizing how clinical he sounded. "My apologies, Ziva," Ducky said quietly. "In times of great stress, I often find that my medical training simply takes over. It's a terrible habit..." Ziva smiled at him and gave him a tender hug.

"Coffee for everyone, Boss," Tim said, doling out cups to Ziva, Ducky and Gibbs. "Caf-Pow, Abby," he said in a whisper, sitting alongside her. Abby took the drink sadly and Tim hugged her, holding her close as she sobbed into his shirt.

"Mr. Palmer called as I was driving here," Ducky said, breaking the group silence. "He's been asked to collect the Director at the airport and he's kindly obliging."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

_"Kate..." Tony said, unable to believe his eyes. She looked just like he remembered her from their days as NCIS partners, before Ziva had come into his life. Then he looked back at the scene in the operating room. When Tony saw his body on the table, the doctors and nurses working on him, his green eyes opened wide with horror._

_"Internal injuries... brain concussion... skull fracture... collapsed lung... Nice work, Tony. You're still the best driver I know." Kate raised an eyebrow at him, shaking her head._

_"Am I dead? What is this? YOU'RE dead... So that means I'm..." Tony could hardly breathe. He began to sweat._

_"Let's just say if you had any plans tonight, you're gonna be a little late. OK, really late." Kate crossed her arms, staring at Tony's face. "Fine, Tony, you're NOT dead. Yet."_

_"Yet?" Tony croaked out the word. "No... NO! I don't WANNA die! It's not TIME! I can't..." he choked back tears, not wanting Kate to see him cry, "... I can't leave ZIVA. Not now... Not like this." Kate's expression softened. She reached out to him, touching his cheek._

_"It's not up to you, Tony," she said softly. "That's the thing. We don't get a say."_

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ziva stood silently by the large plate glass windows opposite the entrance to the surgical wing. Looking out into the inky darkness of the Washington skyline, dotted only with white and red neon in the distance, she felt small and insignificant.

"It is my fault," she said, knowing he was standing right behind her. "We argued violently this evening, he walked out and drove off in his car." Wiping back tears, she went on. "Why could I not just LET it go? Why did I PUSH him? Tony is not like me. He claims to want to know the truth about everything but in fact, he does NOT want to know the truth -- not when he suspects it will be something he will not like having to deal with." Ziva crossed her arms, shaking her head.

"Tony's not like most people," Tim said softly. He put his hands on Ziva's shoulders and together they stared out the window into the black void.

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_  
"Tell me about her," Kate said, stroking Tony's hair. She liked that now, in this situation, he needed her and his usual bravado was nowhere to be found. The Tony she held in her arms, the one who had just broken down at the sight of himself being drilled and sliced and diced in the OR who needed comforting with a hug, was the man she'd always known he was deep down -- sensitive and kind, a man who really loved and respected women. This was the Tony that brash OTHER guy she'd sparred with during her NCIS days had worked overtime to hide from everyone. "Tell me about Ziva."_

_"You don't already know?" Tony asked, his eyes fixed on the medical team continuing to work on his body. Was he even down there with them at all? Any part of him? He didn't understand any of this. But he hadn't understood seeing the vision of Kate just after she'd been killed. Still, he'd accepted that. He'd never told anyone at NCIS about seeing Kate "visit" him because they'd have thought he was nuts. But he knew she'd come back to him that time and now, here she was again. He sighed, then laughed softly. "You mean you aren't Up There, looking down at everything Ziva and I do, Kate? C'mon, this is ME you're talkin' to..."_

_"OK, so... maybe I catch the highlights," Kate said, snickering. Tony laughed, too. "But I'd rather hear all about the -- what is it you call her? your ninja? -- who managed to tame the great Tony DiNozzo from the former Love Master himself. Even if I know the story. I like Ziva. She doesn't take any of your CRAP. Wish I'd gotten to know her."_

_And so, as Tony and Kate watched the doctors work, Tony told Kate about his life with Ziva -- from their first meeting, just after Kate's death, to their becoming lovers. His voice grew quiet as he talked about their recent problems, stemming from the possibility of their grandparents having been intimate to..._

_"My relationship with Ari -- us being in love," Kate said matter-of-factly. "Shocked the hell out of you, didn't it? Dammit, I TOLD him not to let anyone know until everything was all set up!" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, he's gonna get it when I'm done here." She looked up. "HEAR THAT, SPEED RACER? YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE, MISTER!" Tony stared at her._

_"HE's here, too? Up HERE?" Tony looked stunned. "UP here and not DOWN there, where he BELONGS?" He shook his head disbelievingly. "Kate, Ari MURDERED you! You were in love with the guy who KILLED you? How the hell does that work, huh?"_

_"Heck if I know. Sometimes you just fall in love, Tony. You don't plan it. Like you didn't plan it with Ziva. I didn't sit there and think 'Hmmm... Lemme pencil in 'Fall in love with Ari Haswari: 2004' in my daybook... It was like I told you that time: His eyes -- he's got the kindest eyes. And you don't know everything about the guy. He's not who you think he is. He never was, Tony." She paused. "Ari didn't kill me," Kate answered. "Sounds insane, I know. But... just keep digging and you'll see what I mean. ARI didn't kill me."_

_"The hell he didn't!" Tony barked. "Then he tried to kill Gibbs, only Ziva took him out first! Dammit, Kate, we SAW him. We KNOW Ari killed you. We KNOW he tried to kill the Boss. Hell, Ziva's still not over having to kill her own brother."_

_"She didn't kill her brother," Kate said. "Tony, just go with me on this. I can't explain it to you. But Ziva didn't kill Ari. Ari died, but not because of anything Ziva did." She took a deep breath. "It's complicated."_

_"Kate, that doesn't make sense," Tony said, frowning. "Ari died but he didn't die when Ziva killed him? Ha ha HAH... Oooohhhhkaaaay..."_

_"Let's just say," Kate began, "that a lot of wheels were already set in motion before I died -- before Ari died. People you thought you knew? You didn't really know them, Tony. You only knew what they wanted you to believe, what they wanted Ziva to believe. There's a lot you don't know -- all of you." She focused on a young female doctor preparing to make an incision in Tony's chest as he lay on the operating table. "Took you long enough to realize Ziva was the right one, DiNozzo," she said suddenly, changing the subject. The female doctor pierced Tony's skin with the scalpel; dark blood seeped out. Kate shivered at the sight of the masked young woman wielding the sharp blade over Tony. She rubbed her arms, nervously. "You sure screwed around with a... real piece of work there for a while a couple years back. What the HELL were you thinking? You should never have taken it as far as you did with... HER, DiNozzo. Big mistake. If I'd been there, I'd have put my foot so far up your ass even Gibbs couldn't have slapped it out." Tony, still caught up in his own thoughts, barely heard Kate speaking._

_"This is crazy. If this is real or... whatever it is... I wanna see my Papa Tony. I wanna find out the truth about what went on with Ziva's grandmother and him. So dial him up or page him on the St. Peter Hotline or whatever you have to do, Kate."_

_"Doesn't work that way, Tony," Kate replied. "Hey, he's a great guy -- still thinks Ohio State should be ranked higher than USC but ehhh... we joke around about that -- and he looks out for you. God, he loves you. But for this? You need me. Because if your grandfather had his way, he might not let you go. He misses you too much."_

_"You know the truth about it all, don't you?" Tony asked, his eyes searching Kate's. "Papa Tony... Ziva's grandmother... You KNOW what happened."_

_"I know a lot of things now," Kate sighed. "Too many things. Things I don't want to know."_

_"Tell me," Tony pleaded, pulling Kate to him. "Kate, you've gotta tell me. Please."_

_"Tony..." Kate cupped Tony's handsome face in her hands, smiling tenderly at him. "You know I can't do that. You have to find the answers yourself. And you will. You will. Trust me."_

_"You always tried to help me," Tony whispered, his voice breaking. "Why won't you help me now?"_

_"I still take care of you, DiNozzo," Kate said, hugging Tony fiercely. "I always will. And as far as helping you goes?" She pulled back, giving him a soft, sisterly kiss on the cheek. "I already did. Who do you think kept your car from rolling over, Tony? You're not THAT great of a driver. I know if anything happened to that Mustang I'd be stuck with you Up Here forever because you'd drop dead if it got totaled. So you owe me one." Winking at him, Kate touched his face one final time and began to walk away._

_"Kate!" Tony called. "Hey, where you going? Don't leave!" His stomach tightened as Kate continued moving away from him, fading slowly from his sight. Desperate to keep her with him, he resorted to yelling "Well, you know what? I'm gonna tell Gibbs and Abby and Ducky and McGee ALL about this when I wake up! Oh yeah -- they're gonna hear EVERYTHING!"_

_Kate laughed out loud. Now Tony could barely make her out in the distance._

_"Oh, shut up, Tony," she joked. "You're NEVER gonna remember this -- any of it. But just so you know, your old boss? Jenny? LOVES telling everyone else Up Here the story about how you tongued that transsexual."_

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ziva sat by Tony's bedside as he lay in the Intensive Care Unit. She'd seen plenty of horrendous trauma in her lifetime but the sight of her lover lying unconscious -- so still, with his head swathed in thick, stark white gauze bandages, his chest wrapped likewise and a harsh-looking breathing tube forcing air into his damaged, already scarred lungs -- was too much for Ziva to take. Caressing Tony's hand, she finally allowed herself to weep quietly until there were no more tears left, only her hollow sobs, as the first pinks and purples of dawn peeked over the horizon.

Just as Ziva wiped her eyes, a sudden burst of cold air swirled around the room, which was already cool to keep down germs. Ziva shivered at the shocking chill, which momentarily took her breath away. Tony's heart monitor spiked and his hand gripped hers, so tightly she grimaced.

"Tony?" Ziva said, stroking his hand, which now relaxed. The heart monitor returned to normal. The swirl of air was gone. Ziva lifted Tony's hand, planting a soft kiss near his knuckles. She leaned down to rub her cheek against his hand. His index finger moved slightly.

"Time for you," Gibbs, who'd come in without Ziva hearing, said in a near-whisper, "to take a break, Ziva. Get some sleep."

"No," Ziva said politely. "I cannot leave him."

"Well, you're gonna," Gibbs said in his soft, matter-of-fact way. "That's an order, David. Nurses got a bed for ya right up the hall. Go. I'm on your six." Ziva kissed Tony's hand once more, hugged Gibbs and left with a nurse who awaited her at the door. Gibbs settled in at Tony's bedside, fixing his ice blue eyes on his young agent.

"Don't even think about bailin' on me, DiNozzo," he said quietly, leaning to speak in Tony's ear. "Lot of paperwork on your desk waitin' to be finished."


	23. Say It Isn't So

Title: Say It Isn't So  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"I can't sleep at night / I keep on dreaming you're gone" -- The Outfield_

**-------------------- Say It Isn't So ---------------------**

As Tony lies in a coma, Ziva deals with her emotions and she finds that her grandmother once was faced with a similar situation.

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_**Tel Aviv -- April 1955**_

_They'd been enjoying their evening together at the outdoor café. Elijah took Hannah's hand in his, smiling at her from across the small table. She looks so lovely, he thought, in that dress._

_Soon the heat would become oppressive, even on nights like this, but this spring evening was temperate and Hannah had put on the floral-print summer dress specifically because it was her husband's favorite. Although he was not the man who truly had her heart, Hannah felt that since Elijah was a good man who loved her, she should please him whenever possible. He never asked -- certainly never demanded -- anything of her, so why not make him happy even if she, secretly, wasn't? She did love him, but not as he loved her._

_"You are a vision of loveliness tonight, my darling," Elijah said, stroking Hannah's hand. His dark brown eyes met hers. She could see that he wanted her. She swallowed and smiled. In moments like this, Hannah felt guilty; Elijah was a good husband, faithful and enchanted by her. And later that night Hannah knew that in order to make love to him she would pretend, as she always did, that he was her lost love, Anthony DiNozzo, the soldier she'd fallen for during a World War II mission._

_Those were the last words Elijah spoke before the tranquility of the night was shattered by the first explosion that tore through the café. _

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Even though the doctors continued assuring Ziva that Tony was improving, she wasn't convinced. She _knew_ Tony and she knew that for him to remain so still and uncommunicative despite the treatment he'd been receiving just didn't seem right. But then she reminded herself of the harsh truth: _Tony has a serious head injury. Tony has a collapsed lung. Tony had brain surgery. Tony isn't Tony right now.  
_  
So Ziva stayed at Tony's side daily -- holding his hand, stroking his arm, caressing his cheek, anything to possibly stimulate him in some small way. Occasionally Tony barely moved his index finger or would weakly try to grip Ziva's hand but his movements were few and far between.

Ziva worried. When would Tony come back to her? And when he did, would he be the same man she'd known and loved?

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_**Tel Aviv -- April 1955**_

_You must despise this, Hannah thought as she held her husband's hand, being unable to go after the men who destroyed your favorite café, Elijah. She stared with concern at him, his strong features gaunt and his head wrapped in bandages. Not even during his deepest sleep had Elijah ever been so quiet or still. The man thrashed around in bed, kicking like a donkey. Hannah had learned to sleep despite the clamor. But now, nothing. Just his silent breathing as he lay immobile and unconscious, the doctors unsure of when he would awaken._

_What hurt Hannah most, seeing Elijah this way, was the memory of how he'd leapt across the table, pushing her to the ground in order to shield her body with his own, when the blast hit. His first thought at that moment had been to protect her._

_Her first thought had been that if she died she would never have a chance to even possibly see Anthony again._

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Gibbs relieved Ziva late that evening as he always did, "ordering" her in his gently gruff way to go home and get rest. And as always, she complied -- after protesting quietly for a few minutes. She really didn't want to leave Tony but after nearly 12 hours each day in a hospital room she was drained and knew that Gibbs was right: staying healthy so she could be there for Tony was important. He'd need her when, not if, he woke up. Gibbs had no doubts about Tony's recovery. But Gibbs rarely had doubts about anything, it seemed to Ziva. She wished she had such confidence.

That night in the apartment, Ziva lay in bed -- alone. She turned on her side, caressing the empty area where Tony normally slept. The sheet was cold and it hit her then, hard, how she missed Tony. Tears welled in Ziva's brown eyes, thinking of how each night Tony would pull her to him, kiss her good night and whisper that he loved her and was the luckiest man in the world to have a woman like her loving him back. They made love often, which she always enjoyed. But the nights when Tony simply held her in his strong arms, tenderly kissing her as they whispered promises, dreams and intimate secrets, were precious to her. Those nights, Tony let himself be vulnerable, let her know the deepest parts within him that he tried to hide from everyone. She loved that.

And Ziva knew that he loved the fact that she did the same for him on these quiet nights. He'd told her so.

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Cold sweat chilled Ziva once she sat up in the bed. She didn't remember throwing off the covers. She vaguely recalled hearing a voice screaming "NO" -- her voice, obviously -- but it had sounded far away and it had taken awhile to wake her.

What she did remember, clearly, was the vision of the casket lid closing. It was the last time she'd seen Tony's face, just before the black lid fell over it. Then she'd started hearing the screams. Now she was awake, trying to catch her breath.

Changing out of her soaked t-shirt, Ziva padded into the living room. She couldn't sleep so she decided to read. Anything to try getting the image of Tony, dead in a casket, out of her head. She tried launching into the latest of the war strategy tomes her father had sent from Tel Aviv but she just couldn't concentrate on it. Not with Tony in the condition he was suffering through. Ziva wanted some kind of comfort. But Tony wasn't there. Only he knew that she wasn't as tough and emotionless as she tried to appear. He always knew when Ziva needed him to be strong for her.

The box with her grandmother's letters and keepsakes caught Ziva's eye.

_I shouldn't keep looking at your letters, Savta,_ she thought. After all, wasn't this box the cause of her grief? Tony's terrible accident? Why couldn't she just seal it up and pack it away to be forgotten? But Ziva, feeling so alone, wished for her grandmother's wise words. _You would know how to handle this,_ she mused as she rummaged through the box, finally coming to a letter that demanded her immediate attention.

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**  
**_**Columbus, Ohio -- February 1958**_

_Anthony DiNozzo checked his mail slot at Buckeye Steel without fail first thing every morning when he arrived at work promptly at 6 a.m. Most days there was nothing for him. A few days each month, he'd find a company memo or another message from the steelworkers union imploring him to join. These he considered, then threw away. They weren't what he hoped to find._

_The letters had started coming after he'd returned from taking his family on summer vacation to Coney Island, New York, in the summer of 1953. The writer had asked him not to answer, that she would know he'd received her messages. Trust in her, she asked. He always had and so he did as she asked, never replying but only savoring her words whenever he got them. And her words, in writing as they had been during their short time together, were beautiful to him. He treasured these letters, taking pains to hide them from his wife. Joan would burn them -- all of them -- should she ever happen on them. She hated seeing Anthony happy. Knowing that he loved another woman would infuriate Joan even more than usual and he didn't want to do anything that would cause hurt for his beloved boys, Vincenzo and Danny. He already spent enough time trying to shield them from their mother's alcoholic rages; they shouldn't have to suffer for his secrets._

_This day, Anthony smiled as he pulled the air mail letter from his Buckeye Steel box. Tel Aviv. As always, he opened it with a mix of excitement and fear. He never knew if this would be the final message, the one telling him she could no longer write._

_He'd thought that would be the case a few years back in 1955 when Hannah wrote that her husband Elijah had been seriously injured in an explosion. Elijah was comatose, Hannah said, and she was unsure of how she would care for their young son, Eli, should his father die from his injuries. Anthony remembered thinking it wasn't like Hannah to sound afraid or uncertain; she'd always been so calm and prepared for whatever came along. And at that moment, he'd started to send her a letter so she'd know he cared about her -- that he was praying for Elijah to recover and that he always prayed she would be happy, even if they couldn't be together. But he didn't. He would honor her wishes and not answer._

_But her letters kept coming. And she told him of how she'd read to Elijah each day as he lay unconscious. That had made the difference, the doctors said. It helped her get through the days, too, she admitted. Slowly, Elijah came around and when he was able to return home, little Eli had clung to his father like -- what was the term, she'd asked? -- sandpaper? Glue, Anthony thought, chuckling. Even in the short time they'd spent together, Hannah made him laugh with how she got her phrases mixed up. He loved that, though, and he missed it._

_Anthony had been glad for Hannah then, that Elijah survived and that their son would have his father. He hated to think of his own boys growing up without him, left alone with Joan. And so he took excellent care of himself and was cautious at work. But Elijah and Hannah's "work" was dangerous; Anthony worried that if the letters did stop arriving, it would be Hannah who had been injured or... worse._

_Today, however, there was nothing to worry about. This letter wasn't a letter, really. It was a card._

_Little red hearts peppered the thick white paper, also shaped like a heart. Inside, a poem spoke of love._

_In Hannah's beautiful cursive, Anthony read how much his soulmate loved and missed him on this Valentine's Day. She promised to forever be his and reminded him that she, too, prayed for a day when somehow they could once again be together as lovers._

_Tucking the card carefully into the inner chest pocket of his jacket, Anthony patted the Valentine's heart over his own heart and grinned. His girl still loved him. He loved her. And it was going to be a great day._


	24. Not Myself

Title: Not Myself  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"Would you want me when I'm not myself? Would you want me when I'm someone else?" -- John Mayer_

**-------------------- Not Myself ---------------------**

Tony awakens from his coma but Ziva finds her happiness short-lived.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ziva sighed as she exited the elevator. Another long day at Tony's bedside awaited her and, already exhausted, she wondered how much longer Tony would remain unconscious. It wasn't her own health that concerned her; she worried that the longer Tony lay in a coma, the harder it would be for him to recover.

Entering Tony's room, Ziva closed her eyes just for a moment. She prayed, silently, for the strength to help Tony through this. He would need her; she must stay strong for him.

When she opened her eyes, Ziva was stunned at what she saw.

Tony was sitting up in the bed, his green eyes fixed on her, staring.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
**  
**_**Bahamas -- July 2004**_

_"I don't understand," Kate said, frowning, as she and Ari walked along the beach at sunset. She liked the feel of his strong hand holding hers. "Explain it to me again? I mean... it just sounds..." she paused, trying to find a better word than the only one that came to mind, "... crazy."_

_Ari pulled Kate into his arms. He gazed down at her, caressing her chin._

_"It IS crazy," he said in a low voice that sent a shiver of fear down Kate's spine. "But I promise you, Caitlin, it is true." He sighed, closing his eyes. "I would never have imagined that... well, it's as I told you: She is dangerous. Far more than he is. And I do not know how I will handle her -- them -- exactly. Not at this time. These people... their organization... it is more far-reaching than anything I have ever come across. They have contacts everywhere." Ari held Kate against his chest. "Everywhere," he repeated quietly. Kate trembled._

_"In NCIS, too?" she asked. Kate pulled back, looking up into Ari's dark eyes. He said nothing, simply returning her stare. "My GOD..." Kate said, horrified. "They DO." She had to catch her breath; this was stunning. "Ari, if you know anything about who these people have inside NCIS you've got to tell me. I have to let Gibbs know. I need to..."_

_"If I knew, Caitlin," Ari said, "I would tell you. And I am not certain that they have already secured a spy within your ranks. I believe they may be targeting someone to use for their purposes in the future. That is why I infiltrated Dr. Mallard's examination area in the first place -- to bide my time until I could download the personnel files so that I could send them back to Mossad. Our experts want to see which of your agents appears most likely to ... fall victim to their plan. Nobody was supposed to discover me." He sighed again. "Now they are aware that I gained access to the NCIS headquarters."_

_"They don't trust you?" Kate asked, concerned for Ari's safety._

_"They trust no one," Ari replied. "Not even one another."_

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"_Tony!_" Ziva said. Tears of joy welled in her eyes. She hurried to his bedside, taking his hand in hers. "Oh, Tony!" Ziva kissed Tony's hand. Then, caressing his cheek, she tenderly kissed him on the lips. "My love..." she whispered, "Tony..."

But Tony didn't respond to the kiss or to Ziva in any way. Instead, he only continued staring blankly at her, frowning slightly as his green eyes studied her face. Now she pulled back, sensing something wasn't right.

"Don't... Don't... _touch_ me! I don't... _know_ you," Tony stammered, his voice weak. He pushed Ziva's hand away. "Where's... Kate? I want... _Kate_." He groaned and turned away from Ziva.

Ziva swallowed hard, feeling as if she'd been punched in the stomach.

_He does not remember me_, Ziva realized. Her worst nightmare was coming true.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The doctors cautioned Ziva, Gibbs and the rest of the team against telling Tony that Kate was dead.

"Our assessment shows that, right now at least, he thinks it's 2005 -- just before this friend of his, Kate, died," the lead neurosurgeon said. "It's not uncommon, this sort of initial confusion after waking from a coma," he went on, "and odds are his memory will return. It just may take a while. I wouldn't worry. We'll monitor him closely, though, just to be sure nothing's wrong."

"And _how_ long is 'a while'?" Ziva asked. "A week? A month? _Two_ months? When _should_ I worry?"

"A couple of weeks is normal for someone who's suffered the sort of brain injury he's recuperating from," the doctor said. "A month is... pushing it. But let's give it time. He's just come around. As I say, it's likely just confusion resulting from the trauma of the injury and the surgery. I've seen this before. Never had a patient yet who remained in such a state."

"Remember, Ziva," Gibbs said softly, "I came back around. Don't give up on Tony. He's full of surprises."

Ziva hugged him and he rubbed her back tenderly.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Monroe University Hospital -- September 2004**_

_"Miss... Todd?" The young woman entered the exam room uncertainly. Her scrubs are too clean, Kate thought. That's not right. "I'm sorry you've had to wait so long. We've been slammed in the ER."_

_"Oh, that's OK," Kate answered, a wry grin crossing her face. "Who doesn't enjoy hanging out on an exam table, cooling her heels for a couple hours?" She fingered the linen wraparound she wore. "And, hey, I get to model this fabulous gown... Not the worst way I've spent a Friday night." The young woman laughed. Kate studied her. Thank God Tony isn't in on this one, Kate thought. DiNozzo would have a massive heart attack just so this chick would give him mouth-to-mouth._

_"Well, I can think of better things to do with my Fridays," the young woman joked. Conspiratorially, she added, "Actually, I had a date tonight but... he cancelled on me. Comes into town once a month but couldn't get free tonight for dinner." She sighed, clearly upset. "So I told my resident I'd work. Guess it turned out for the best." Kate smiled, studying the woman's expression. The girl spoke politely but the frustration at her date having called the night off was evident in her voice, Kate noted. The young woman studied Kate's chart. "You're having dizzy spells? How long has this been happening?"_

_Kate frowned. "Hmmm... Couple of weeks?" She folded her hands in her lap. "Yeah, I passed out at work this afternoon and my boss made me come in for a checkup. He's a worrier."_

_"Passing out at work is something to worry about," the young woman said. "I'll consult with my resident, Miss Todd, and he'll be in to see you in just a few minutes. Then we'll have you taken upstairs for some tests."_

_"Will you be... back? To check on me, too?" Kate asked._

_"Sure," the young woman replied, smiling. "I'm an intern, though. I'd like to have my resident take a look at your case. But I'll be back to observe."_

_"Good," Kate said. "I just... I get a little of the old 'white coat syndrome,' you know? Nervous around doctors."_

_"Don't worry," the intern answered. "I'm sure you'll be just fine."_

_"Thanks, I appreciate that, Doctor... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Kate said, studying the young woman's features. Something about her eyes and her smile, despite her polite demeanor, left Kate cold. Note to self, Kate thought, she's got weird eyes. Profile that._

_"Dr. Benoit," the intern replied, a prim grin playing at her mouth. "Dr. Jeanne Benoit. It's nice to meet you, too..." She looked down at the chart. "... Kate."_


	25. Barely Breathing

Title: Barely Breathing  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"Everyone keeps asking / What's it all about? / I used to be so certain / Now I can't figure out" -- Duncan Sheik_

**-------------------- Barely Breathing ---------------------**

Ziva and Tony struggle to reconnect but Tony can only recall an odd evening from a birthday celebration with Papa Tony.

* * *

When Tim found Ziva sitting in the waiting area near the nurses' station, he could see how close to tears she was. She sat staring out the large plate glass window into the fading sunlight, her face expressionless. He sat beside her, placing his hand on her thigh.

"What happened today?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"The same as usual," Ziva replied. "Tony told me he did not know me, that he did not want to see me and that he wanted me to stay out of his room."

"So he still hasn't remembered anything." Tim sighed. "Look, Ziva, the doctor said it was going to take time. It's only been a little over a week."

"Oh, he has remembered... something," Ziva said, continuing to gaze out the window. "Only not anything about _our_ life together."

"Well... what then?" Tim asked, frowning.

* * *

_**New York -- July 1992**_

_"No WAY! Papa Tony... Uncle Vinnie... this is AWESOME! Thanks!" Tony, having ripped the wrapping paper off his birthday present, sat gaping at the gift before him. He'd been asking for a new, up-to-date VCR so that he could watch his favorite movies -- and there were many -- whenever he wanted instead of waiting to see them on cable or re-run on TV. He'd asked at Christmas but had been disappointed when he didn't get it. But now his grandfather and uncle had gone in together and gotten him the VCR for his 24th birthday. Tony's green eyes sparkled with sheer joy._

_Papa Tony was celebrating turning 80; it was his birthday, too, and Uncle Vincenzo and Tony had planned a big day for the old man. Tony and Uncle Vinnie had gone in together to buy Papa Tony the short surfboard he'd asked for. Tony was sure this was some kind of joke Papa Tony was playing on them but his grandfather insisted it wasn't. He was going surfing in Hawaii the next week with his old friend from the War, he'd said firmly, and he wanted to be ready to catch his big wave when it came. Vincenzo had laughed it off, as had Tony, but Tony noted a gleam in the old man's eye that told him he was dead serious. But right now, it was Tony's turn to enjoy his birthday gift and Papa Tony was beside himself, seeing Tony's happiness._

_"Really," Tony said, hugging his grandfather tightly, "It's great, Papa Tony..." He turned, hugging his uncle. "Thank you, Uncle Vinnie. I ..." Tony's voice cracked with emotion. "... I love you both. So much. Thanks." Uncle Vincenzo squeezed Tony extra hard before turning him loose._

_"And, hey! That's not all, boy!" Papa Tony said excitedly, handing Tony another small box. Tony looked surprised._

_"Yeah, Tony, go on! Open it!" Uncle Vincenzo smiled broadly. "Me and Pop, we both picked 'em out." Tony carefully opened the box._

_"Ha HAH!" Tony's eyes lit up. In the box were four movies. "The Dirty Dozen... Star Wars... Goldfinger... and... Casablanca?" Tony smiled, a bit confused. The first three films were among his favorites and he talked about them all the time. But he'd always avoided seeing "Casablanca" because he thought it looked like a chick flick._

_"Casablanca's the one I got especially for you, Tony," Papa Tony said, patting his grandson on the back. "After we go out to dinner for our birthday, how's about we watch that one, huh? That was my favorite movie when I was a young man. Those... were good days..." Uncle Vincenzo winked at Tony, who grinned back. Papa Tony sat, staring off dreamily into space._

_"Sure, Papa Tony, we'll watch it," Tony said, giving the old man a hug. "You a big Humphrey Bogart fan?"_

_"Ah, he's okay," Papa Tony replied, "but I tell you THIS, buddy -- I'm a big INGRID BERGMAN fan!"_

* * *

Sitting in a recliner, Tony watched the activity out on the street from his hospital room window. He was tired of being inside and depressed at not being able to remember much that had happened to him before the accident. The doctors said he'd suffered a head injury -- that accounted for the memory loss, which was most likely temporary. In time his memory would return, they told him. In time, Tony thought. How much time?

And then there was Ziva. This woman who he'd known -- supposedly loved -- before his injury. She was now a stranger to him. She visited him daily and her presence at once intrigued and frustrated Tony. Her being around him only reminded him of how much he'd apparently lost and so he always insisted she leave him alone. But, really, he always hoped she'd stay.

* * *

_**New York -- July 1992**_

_When "Casablanca" was over, Tony had questions._

_"OK, Papa Tony, I gotta ask... This? Doesn't seem like your kinda movie," Tony looked quizzically at his grandfather. "I mean, you took me to my first Steve McQueen film-fest. We watched 'The Dirty Dozen' over and over and over. And then one more time for good measure. Remember that James Bond Weekend we went to at the drive-in back in Columbus when I was seven?"_

_"Yeah," Papa Tony laughed, "You walked around sayin' you wanted your Cokes shaken not stirred for months after that. Damndest thing I ever saw. Got me laughin' every time I thought of it."_

_"Grandma Joan didn't think it was funny." Tony's face clouded, remembering how his grandmother had told him to "stop acting like a little idiot" the first time he'd made the joke in front of her. It hurt him deeply. He'd wanted her to love him the way Papa Tony did and instead she was only ever cold to him._

_"Well, she wasn't much for kidding around," Papa Tony sighed, his expression turning glum. After a minute, he narrowed his eyes at Tony. "Hey, buddy, whaddaya mean 'Casablanca' doesn't sound like 'my' kinda movie, huh? You think I'm not a romantic kinda guy or somethin'?" Tony laughed._

_"I don't know," Tony said. "Maybe. How'd you ever get into this movie? It was good but it's kind of a chick flick." Papa Tony shook his head, grinning._

_"A 'chick flick'... Boy, you gotta lot to learn about women, I tell ya. How're you ever gonna find a good wife, Tony, if you don't figure out how to give a woman what she wants, huh? HUH?" He playfully punched Tony in the shoulder. "It's not all about what YOU want, buddy. Ya gotta let her be your partner -- fifty-fifty! Even stevens!" Tony stared at his grandfather. Where was all this coming from, Papa Tony and his advice about true love?_

_Papa Tony sighed and went on: "I saw 'Casablanca' when it first came out in 1943 at the old theater on Post. I was back in the U.S. then, stationed at Fort McPherson in Georgia. Me and some of the guys went to the first showing and they were all like you, Tony -- 'Ahhh... too much girl-stuff, not enough war!' But I went back and saw that movie all weekend long. Me, I liked that love story. A guy and the woman he loves more than anything get together over in Casablanca and then he's gotta let her go... He knows he's probably never gonna see her again..." The old man's voice trailed off. He stared wistfully out the window into the black night. Tony watched his grandfather, sensing he was talking as much about himself as about the movie. He started to ask Papa Tony about the World War II mission he never spoke of -- his own time in Casablanca in 1942 -- but felt that he shouldn't._

_"Well, hey, I'm beat," Tony said at last, yawning. "Think I'm gonna call it a day. You comin' to bed, Papa Tony? I know Uncle Vinnie said you get up early for Mass on Sundays." Tony usually avoided Mass since he wasn't particularly religious and also since he was often hungover from partying on Saturday nights. But since his uncle and grandfather were devout Catholics who never missed Sunday Mass, he was going with them the next morning to their little parish for services._

_"Soon, boy," Papa Tony replied. "I'll hit the hay soon."_

_As Tony stripped down to his boxers in the guest room, he heard the sound of the 'Casablanca' opening theme start up once again on the TV in the living room._

* * *

This was Tony's most vivid memory since he'd regained consciousness and he felt even more hopelessly alone now, having asked a nurse if his grandfather was coming to see him. She'd gently explained that no, he wasn't. How did she know, Tony had asked. His girlfriend, Ziva, had told her, the nurse said.

Ziva... He knew nothing about his own life. But Ziva knew everything about him.

Tony buzzed for the nurse. When she arrived, he had just one request.

"Is Ziva still here? I wanna see her."


	26. The Story Of Your Life

Title: The Story Of Your Life  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"I don't know what's coming up / Where will you go now / It's the story of your life" -- Five For Fighting_

**-------------------- The Story Of Your Life ---------------------**

Tony, frustrated at not being able to remember his life with Ziva, goes to the source for answers.

* * *

Tony and Ziva sat facing one another in the quiet of the hospital waiting room. It was well past midnight and visiting hours were over so they had the entire room to themselves. Amber lamplight illuminated the area where they sat. Otherwise, it was dark. Surprisingly, Ziva liked the feel of this room. Unlike Tony's hospital room, it wasn't clinical; instead, there was an odd coziness to it.

"What happened to me?" Tony asked softly.

"You were in a serious car accident," Ziva answered. "You suffered a head injury. You were unconscious. That is why your memories are blocked -- temporarily. The doctor says you will regain them in time, Tony."

"I need to know now," Tony said. "I need you to tell me who I am... or was, anyway." He paused. "And... I want to know what we had. Ziva, I don't... I don't hate you, you know that, right? I know we had ... something. But I just can't... I can't remember and it's killing me. Ziva, why did I have that accident?" Ziva swallowed hard.

"We had argued. You left." She sighed, knowing what Tony would ask next.

"Why were we arguing?" Tony's green eyes searched her somber face.

* * *

After hours of talking and going over memories -- some happy, others painful -- they sat, still facing each other. Alone together in the small waiting room, Tony and Ziva each struggled to stay awake. Ziva worried that Tony was pushing himself, physically and mentally, and might relapse. His condition -- at least from a purely physical standpoint -- had dramatically improved and she didn't want to see him backslide.

"You should get some sleep, Tony," Ziva said softly. "You need rest."

"I've spent enough time in bed already," Tony replied, sighing. He studied Ziva, rubbing his temples. He was exhausted but didn't want to let her leave him. "What I don't understand is, why'd I get so upset about those letters? Between my grandfather and your grandmother?" Tony's green eyes had large, dark circles beneath them. "People can't help who they love," he conceded in a near-whisper.

"I cannot say," Ziva began, "why the letters so upset you. Who would imagine the world is so small? I would not." She fought to keep from closing her eyes, exhausted from the long day. "Tony, the letters were shocking to me, also. But we cannot change the past."

Tony fixed his tired green eyes on Ziva. And while he still didn't fully yet remember her or his relationship with her, something stirred deeply within him, seeing her so close to him and so vulnerable at that moment. He tenderly, tentatively stroked her hand.

"C'mere," Tony said softly, holding open his arms. Ziva leaned into them, letting Tony embrace her as she sobbed. "It's okay... I'm gonna be okay," he whispered into her ear, kissing her neck gently. He placed his forehead against hers, swallowing hard as he sweetly stroked her tear-stained cheeks with his thumbs. "I ... I love you, Ziva," Tony said, emotion cracking his voice. "I know that. It's just.... gonna take a while for me to..."

"I know," Ziva answered, sniffling through her tears. "Whatever you need, Tony, I am here for you." She embraced him again, whispering "I love you" as she held Tony close.

And when the overnight nurse found them in Tony's room later, lying together asleep in the small hospital bed, she quietly adjusted the blanket over the pair, closing the door on her way out.


	27. Blues In The Night

Title: Blues In The Night  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"The moon'll hide its light / When you get the blues in the night" -- "Blues In The Night"_

**-------------------- Blues In The Night ---------------------**

Tony comes home, depressed. But reading Papa Tony's World War II-era journal eases his pain.

* * *

_**January 1943**_

_What's she doing right now? Is she safe? And why CAN'T we see each other again -- or at least just write to each other?_

_I know her line of work -- that's what she called it -- is the reason why. But I miss her. She's all I think about, day and night._

_I'm in love with her. I'll never forget her. And I hope she never forgets me._

* * *

Tony lay on the sofa, studying his grandfather's hardcover journal from World War II. Little by little, Tony's memories were returning and he'd been released from the hospital just a week earlier. His injuries were practically healed; he and Ziva were reconnecting, which pleased him.

And still he was depressed. He was tired of recuperating, tired of not having his full memory back and tired of being unable to return to his job at NCIS. Tony, restless from inactivity, found it hard to sleep at night. He'd left Ziva in their bedroom, dead to the world. She was exhausted from all the hospital visits and stress of the past month. Although they were once again close, living and sleeping together, Tony and Ziva hadn't yet gotten back to being intimate. It was too soon for both of them. That, too, left Tony feeling unhappy. He missed the relationship he'd had with Ziva.

So now, in the early morning hours, Tony tried to relax by reading his Papa Tony's words from over half a century earlier.

_Why was I so angry that he loved Ziva's grandmother?_ Tony thought. _They weren't able to be together... and Papa Tony was miserable all his life being married to Grandma Joan. So why not just be happy that he was really in love once? He deserved that much._

* * *

_**February 1943**_

_**Valentine's Day** -- I spent the whole day remembering that night we spent together. One night. That's all we had. She said it would have to be enough for both of us but I can't help it -- it wasn't. I still want her._

_All day I thought about that long black hair of hers, those dark brown eyes, the skin so soft and sweet I could taste her perfume. And she wasn't even wearing perfume. Everything about her was natural and perfect. Nothing like the girls here at home with all their makeup and hairdos and dresses that they fuss over. That's OK and I like American girls just fine. But I could never love another one -- not after what happened with her._

_It's not that she was different or exotic. It's that we connected. I've never had that with a girl before._

_I love her. I fell in love that one night._

_If I could just touch her, just see her one more time..._

* * *

Ziva slept soundly in their bed, not even moving. Tony watched her, first from the doorway and then from where he carefully climbed into bed beside her. After a while, Ziva stirred and turned towards him.

She started to speak but Tony leaned over, quieting her with a tender kiss. At first Ziva was surprised by the move but she'd missed Tony during his illness and she quickly relaxed, letting herself melt into his embrace.

"I've... I've missed you, Tony," Ziva stammered, swallowing hard.

"I'm not going anywhere again, baby," Tony whispered, pulling Ziva into another kiss before his hands moved down her body.


	28. The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Title: The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance; Drama  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _"It's the hap-happiest season of all" -- It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year_

**-------------------- The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year ---------------------**

_Tony and Ziva enjoy the holidays together, just as Papa Tony and Savta Hannah did years before._

* * *

After getting good news on their visit to Tony's neurologist -- that the head injury Tony had suffered was now completely healed and it appeared Tony's temporary memory loss was also remedied -- Tony and Ziva decided to celebrate their fortune with some holiday shopping.

"Christmas and Hanukkah," Tony said as they strolled arm in arm through the mall. "That's a lot of gifts."

"Yes," Ziva agreed, "and, sadly, I think most people are more concerned with how much they will stack up in presents than in the true meaning of both religious holidays."

"_Rack_ up," Tony corrected, pulling Ziva into a department store. He headed straight for the haberdashery area. "Yeah... It's all about the giving and the getting," Tony said, checking how he looked in a mirror as he tried on a fedora. "There's really no accounting for how shallow some people are this time of year." Turning back towards Ziva, he smiled and said, "Huh? HUH? Ha hah HAH! Just call me Sinatra!" Ziva smirked and rolled her eyes.

"You are definitely back to your old self," she teased, tipping the hat down over Tony's eyes.

* * *

_**December 1992 -- New York City**_

_"Ice skating?" Hannah said, shooting a look at Anthony that suggested he'd lost his mind. "And what should I know of ice skating? I was born in the desert of Palestine, Anthony DiNozzo! We had no ice skating there. We had no ice!"_

_"Aw, it's easy, Gorgeous," Anthony replied, winsomely watching the couples on the ice at Rockefeller Center's large ice rink. "Back in Ohio when I was a boy we'd lace up our blades and go out to the river and skate the day away or play hockey on the really cold days -- and it was always cold back then." Offering Hannah his arm, Anthony's green eyes sparkled. "C'mon, Hannah, give it a go. I've never known YOU to back down from a challenge."_

_"No, you have not," Hannah agreed, "but that was fifty years ago and long before either of us had to worry about breaking a hip, Mister Daredevil." She frowned, studying the ice. "I do not like this idea. You, sir, are pushing the letter."_

_"The envelope, Sweet Lips," Anthony corrected, "and you bet I am, baby! I'm gonna get you on that ice if it's the last thing I ever do."_

_"Well, you may get your wish, my love," Hannah teased. Sighing, she took Anthony's arm and they headed to rent ice skates. "Oh, you are a stubborn mule!" she lovingly scolded as he grinned, pleased that he'd won this little round._

* * *

"I bought you a _prehhhh-sennnnt_," Tony teased, sticking his tongue out at Ziva as he held up a perfectly gift-wrapped box set off with a lovely bow and two little jingly bells. "Tony Claus knows you've been a VERY good girl this year," he said huskily, leaning over to kiss Ziva on the cheek. "And he loves you. You're Number One on his 'Nice' List."

"Hmmm... I had wondered where you disappeared to when I said I was going to look at gadgets for McGee," Ziva replied. She smiled and reached for her gift. Tony lifted it out of her reach.

"Uh-uh," he scolded, wagging his index finger at her. "Naughty Ninja! Do not open until Christmas!"

"For me, Hanukkah has already begun," Ziva reminded Tony.

"And I'm supposed to give you a gift every night of the celebration, right?" Tony asked.

"Well..." Ziva began, but Tony cut her off before she could tell him that wasn't true.

"Uh... This is your special Christmas gift," Tony said, looking around nervously. "I still ... uh... I still gotta go pick up your ... uh... Hanukkah presents." His eyes were wide as saucers. "From where I'm having 'em gift-wrapped." He frowned. "Right now. So... uh... how's about you go get some coffee and I'll be back in a jiffy. With those... Hanukkah presents. For you. Sweet Cheeks." Tony smiled, turned and headed back into the department store.

Ziva watched him go, shook her head, chuckled to herself and headed for the coffee shop.

"I love you, too, My Little Furry Mutt," she said. "Hanukkah presents... Oh, Tony..."

* * *

_**December 1992 -- New York City**_

_"Whew! I'm beat! Time to call it a day," Anthony skated towards one of the benches along the side of the rink, eager to pull off his skates._

_"Stop? Now? But we have only been skating two hours!" Hannah blazed past him on the ice. "You are tired already, Anthony? Now how can that be?" She skated backwards, addressing him. "Where is that man who spent the winters of his Ohio youth skating the river and playing the hockey, eh?" Anthony, already undoing his skate laces, raised a grey eyebrow at Hannah._

_"He's sittin' on this bench, honey, yankin' his feet outta these frozen torture chambers, that's where he is." Anthony continued working to get the boot off his foot. "And what's more, my little Sonja Henie, it's been quite a while since the Ohio days -- 1922, to be exact. Not as far of a fall on your keester when you're only 10, y'know." At last, Anthony got the ice skate off his right foot. He rested for a minute or two, then started unlacing the other._

_"Exactly what is a ... keester?" Hannah asked, executing a near perfect figure eight as Anthony watched._

_"It's that thing I been fallin' down on all afternoon," Anthony replied. Hannah giggled._

_"I see," she snickered, skating over to him. She took a seat next to him on the bench. "You have bruised your behind."_

_"Among other things, yes," Anthony muttered, unlacing the skate. Hannah knew he was mostly angry about having slipped on the ice in front of her. He hated looking unmanly in her presence._

_"Well," she said, unlacing her own skates, "I suppose I will have to nurse you back to health when we get back to our little apartment, then. I cannot have my strong soldier suffering battle wounds. Especially at Christmas."_

_"And Hanukkah," Anthony reminded her, removing his left skate._

_"Yes," Hannah agreed. "We have much celebrating ahead of us. You must be in perfect shape, my darling."_

_"Ah, I'll be fine after a good, hot shower," Anthony sighed._

_"I am certain of that," Hannah said. When she removed her skates and slipped on her shoes, she gave Anthony a tender kiss on the cheek. "I have had fun, Anthony. I love you, my dear. Merry Christmas."_

_"Well, I had fun, too, Hannah," Anthony replied, "when I wasn't fallin' down everywhere." He kissed her back. "And I love you, too, Gorgeous. Happy Hanukkah."_

_"Shall we head home to celebrate?" Hannah asked, standing. She held out her arm for Anthony to take. He rose from the bench, crooking his elbow in hers._

_"The night's still young, kid," Anthony joked as they made their way to return the skates._


	29. More Than You Know

Title: More Than You Know  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Valentine's Day brings a surprise for Ziva.

**-------------------- More Than You Know ---------------------**

"Eat me." Ziva read the two words written on the little pink Post-It taped to a huge heart-shaped box of chocolates. Narrowing her dark brown eyes in Tony's direction, she studied him cautiously. Was this one of his jokes?

Tony shot her a nonchalant look, but his green eyes betrayed him. As ever, they sparkled with mischief.

"Sweets for the Sweet Cheeks," Tony said with a grin. "Bon-bons for my bon-bon. Nougats for my ninja." Ziva continued staring at him and at last, a tiny bit peeved that she wasn't playing along, Tony frowned slightly and huffed "Valentine's Day chocolates for my valentine! Good stuff! Yummy yummies!" Too impatient to wait any longer, Tony reached for the box. "Just OPEN it!"

Ziva yanked her box away to relative safety.

"It is my gift," she reminded Tony. "I will open it when I wish."

Scowling, Tony flopped down on the sofa. He muttered something to himself about how most women would've torn into that box already "but not MY little assassin! HO no!" and issued a self-mocking snort. Rolling her eyes at his dramatic show, Ziva joined Tony on the couch.

"You won't eat my chocolates," Tony pouted.

"I will," Ziva promised. "But we just had breakfast, Tony."

"It's Valentine's Day and you're supposed to eat the chocolates. Or at least open the box." Now Tony stuck out his lower lip, really wanting Ziva to see how "hurt" he was. Again, she rolled her eyes. Sighing heavily, she began to carefully tug at the delicately-tied bow securing the box.

"Yes, my little furry mutt," Ziva said, as if comforting a small child. "We will OPEN your present for me right now." Tony perked up, finding his most dazzling smile for the occasion.

"Open it faster," he prodded. Ziva shot him a look that hinted he should stop while he was ahead and Tony grimaced. "I just mean that we should get you feeling the love as soon as humanly possible, Sweet Cheeks." Ziva snickered and continued taking her time.

Once the bow was untied, Ziva opened the box and was surprised to see... only one chocolate. She didn't understand what was going on but, again, considered that she might be the victim of a Tony DiNozzo prank. But on Valentine's Day? The timing wasn't exactly perfect.

"You do not want me to lose my shotglass figure?" Ziva held out the box, offering Tony the little chocolate. He smiled at her.

"Hourglass," he corrected. "Hourglass figure. And c'mon, my sugar lump -- eat up!"

The fact that Tony was overly excited about her eating just one little chocolate confirmed Ziva's private suspicions that something sneaky was going on.

"YOU are pulling at my leg," Ziva said, intentionally dragging out the whole chocolate-eating process. She wanted to see how Tony would react when faced with having to keep waiting for whatever it was that he so badly wanted. "And I am not hungry, anyway. I will indulge myself later." She started to replace the lid on the box when Tony's hand shot out, stopping her.

"Ziva, c'mon," Tony said in a tone so serious that Ziva was taken aback. "Take the candy outta the box. Please. For me?" His green eyes pleaded with her to listen. Ziva realized that Tony wasn't kidding.

With care, Ziva slowly removed the single chocolate from its thin paper casing and took a bite. The remaining half she offered Tony. When he opened his mouth to receive the sweet morsel, Ziva placed it between his lips with deliberate tenderness. Tony took the chocolate on his tongue and the pair gazed at each other longingly while enjoying their shared treat in silence.

"That was delicious," Ziva said softly after a short time. "Thank you, Tony." Leaning over to him, Ziva kissed Tony, the taste of the chocolate mixing on their tongues.

"Pick up the paper," Tony whispered huskily, nodding at the candy box in Ziva's lap.

Lifting the delicate red tissue that the chocolate had rested in, Ziva found a gold ring with a single diamond set in it. Words failed her; she choked back tears.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Ziva," Tony said, kissing her forehead. "It'll be a lot happier if you say 'yes' when I ask you if you'll marry me, though."

"Oh, Tony," Ziva croaked, her voice breaking as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She nodded "yes," suddenly unable to speak.

"Wait," Tony broke in, "because I wanna do this right." He got down off the sofa, moved the coffee table over and knelt before Ziva on a single knee. Taking her hand in his, Tony took the little ring, held it up and said "Ziva, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Even on the days you probably don't want to spend the rest of YOUR life with ME." Ziva couldn't help but laugh through her tears, hearing this. Tony grinned and then was serious again. "Ziva, will you marry me?"

"Yes, Tony," Ziva said, flushed with joy. "Yes. I love you. And I will be your wife. I will marry you."

Tony broke into a huge toothy grin before gently placing the engagement ring on Ziva's finger. Once this was done, he brought her hand to his lips, planting a sweet kiss on her newly-minted ring finger. Ziva sniffled, unable to stop crying.

"Aw, Sweet Cheeks," Tony said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to Ziva, who used it to dab at her eyes, clean her "sweet cheeks" and then blow her nose. "You, uh... you keep it," Tony replied when Ziva handed the cloth back to him. "Think of it as a token of our undying love, my weeping ninja." Once again, Ziva found herself laughing at Tony's irreverence. Tony sat back on the sofa beside Ziva, pulling her to him as he comforted her. "I love you so much," he whispered, taking in the scent of her shampoo. "I can't wait to be your husband."

"Gibbs," Ziva replied, the thought of their boss suddenly crossing her mind. "What will Gibbs say?" She pulled back from Tony's embrace, now seriously concerned. "How will we continue working together? He will not be..."

"Honey, it's Valentine's Day," Tony answered. He again pulled Ziva to him, rubbing her back to soothe her. "And we're gonna get married." Ziva relaxed in Tony's arms. He felt her tension ease. "It's a long time 'til 7 o'clock tomorrow morning. So you just be my Valentine, Sweet Cheeks, and everything's gonna be okay."

"Tony?" Ziva asked, "What happened to the rest of the chocolates?"

"Somebody had to make the sacrifice in order to bring you so much joy, my bon-bon," Tony replied.

"And you naturally fell on the knife. For my happiness." Ziva grinned.

"Sword. I fell on the sword. For your happiness," Tony said. "There's nothing I won't do for you, my truffle."

"Such as, eating an entire box of chocolates in one sitting?" Ziva snickered.

"Nougats," Tony sniffed, frowning at the memory. "Shoulda spent the extra five bucks for the caramels."


	30. Bitter And Blue

Title: Bitter And Blue  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Oh, Tony... such a handsome face. Such a big mouth.

**-------------------- Bitter And Blue ---------------------**

Tony pouted at his desk, alone in the NCIS office.

He'd made one joke too many about Ziva's attempts to become a naturalized U.S. citizen and she'd smacked him over the head with her copy of the Constitution, then stormed out of the Bullpen. He knew better than to follow her into the elevator.

One thing bugged him, though, above all the other nagging little things about their blowup.

Tim was in the elevator when she made her furious exit.

And he hadn't come back either.


	31. Private Eyes

Title: Private Eyes

Author: rekkidbraka

Rating: T

Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.

Category: Romance

Disclaimer: No infringement intended.

Spoilers: None

Summary: SneakyTony comes out to pry... er, play. After JealousTony shows himself.

**-------------------- Private Eyes ---------------------**

The pounding at his door was annoying enough but the fact that it seemed to somehow keep growing louder and louder finally made Tim blow his cool.

"Coming!" he shouted to the pounding. "I'M COMING!"

Yanking open the door, he found Tony snarling at him.

"Where IS she?!!!" Tony demanded, shoving Tim aside as he barged into the apartment. He was furious.

"Where is who?" Tim asked, completely confused and peeved at Tony's rude entry. "And, please Tony, won't you come in?"

"Where's who? Where's ZIVA, that's who, McGoo!" Tony narrowed his green eyes at Tim. "What have you done with my ninja?"

Tim sniffed at Tony's shirt collar. Tony wrinkled his nose and flinched, quickly stepping backwards.

"I know the Boss sent you over to the DEA earlier," Tim said, giving Tony a snarky look. "Just seeing if you decided to roll around in the hashish hayloft while you were there." Tony growled at him in response.

"Ziva's not here?" Tony squinted, peering around Tim's apartment.

"No, Tony, she's NOT here!" Tim said, frustrated with this whole farce. "Look, I'm working on a new chapter and..."

"Then where _is_ she?" Tony asked, folding his arms across his chest. He studied Tim's wall of books thoughtfully. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember all the places Ziva liked to "hide" from him around town.

"How should I know?" Tim gave Tony an incredulous look.

"Because YOU were on the elevator when she took off outta the office today, HuckleProbie Finn. Which makes YOU the last person to see her. Which means YOU know more than I do!" Tony shot Tim a smug grin, sticking out his tongue at his friend.

"You've got that last part right," Tim said, a broad smile crossing his face. Tony frowned, realizing what he'd said, and snarled.

"Well," Tony went on, trying to play it cool, "I'll forgive you for all the trouble you've caused me TODAY, McHomewrecker — _this_ time. Now if you'll excuse me," he sniffed, giving Tim a haughty look, "I gotta go track down Sweet Cheeks."

* * *

Ziva wasn't at any of her usual "Escape Tony" haunts. Nobody at the coffeehouse she loved (and Tony hated) had seen her; nor had anyone at the gym. Tony was exhausted from the long day, the big fight with Ziva and, now, from his search. Where the hell was she?

His detective training came back to him: Start at the scene of the incident.

And so Tony headed back to NCIS Headquarters. His destination? Ziva's desk.

Taking a seat in her chair, he began rifling through her desk drawers. Perhaps Ziva hadn't been set off by his jokes about her studying for the citizenship test. Maybe something else was wrong. He hoped.

After a few minutes of fumbling around and shifting various papers and office supplies, Tony hit jackpot.

Now he knew where to find Ziva. And why she would be there.

* * *

"Miss? The gentleman at that table sends you this with his compliments." The waitress smiled politely, setting a glass of wine before Ziva at the outdoor table where she sat in the patio area of the small streetside café in downtown Washington. This was the place Ziva had once seen Tony on a date with another woman and Tony knew it was special to Ziva. When she felt lonely, she could be found here.

In her desk drawer, he'd come upon a picture they'd taken the last time they had a date night at the little café. She'd given Tony a kiss on his cheek in the photo while he pretended to be grossed out by her affections. It was a silly picture and they'd both laughed about it. But now he understood: He was always kidding around. And sometimes he shouldn't.

Tony toasted Ziva with his own glass of wine when she peered over to see who'd sent her the gift. But instead of smiling his way, she dropped her eyes, looking down at the book she'd been reading. Tony sighed. He wanted to make things right.

Although he was desperate to come to Ziva, tell her how sorry he was for cracking stupid jokes about something so important to her, he knew by now that giving her time and space was the best way to handle these situations. So he waited it out, sipping his wine in the pleasant spring night air. And he watched Ziva, savoring every minute that his eyes took in her hair, her olive skin, her dark eyes, her strong features he so loved.

At last, she closed her book and, resting her chin on her palm as she gazed back at Tony from her table, offered him a sultry little smirk.

Raising an eyebrow suggestively, he nodded towards her table. She shook her head "yes."

Tony settled into a chair across from Ziva and studied her, his green eyes sad and soulful.

"I'm sorry, Ziva," he said. "For teasing you about the test. I know how hard you're working and I'm proud of you." Tony looked down at the tablecloth, feeling tired and depressed at having upset the person he loved most in all the world. And over a stupid joke.

Ziva reached across the table, taking Tony's hand in hers.

"I am sorry, too," she replied. Tony stared at her quizzically. "Getting so upset over a joke is... childish. I knew you were just dragging my chain."

"Yanking," Tony corrected. "Yanking your chain." Ziva shrugged. "What'cha readin'?" Tony asked, picking up Ziva's book. It was a text on American history. He eyed her tenderly, thinking to himself that she was lovely in the moonlight. "So you... uh... need a study buddy?" Tony grinned at Ziva. Now his green eyes sparkled.

"A study buddy?" Ziva asked. "What is that? Tony, this is not one of those ... gidgets that you waste your money on ordering from the commercials on late night television, is it? Because if it is, then no, I do not want one."

"Gadgets!" Tony corrected (again). "And that Itch-B-Gon back scratcher I got was a great deal, my spendthrift. Two for one! They DOUBLED the order! Ha HAH!" Ziva sipped her wine, rolling her eyes. Tony shook his head, unable to believe that she still hated his late night infomercials. "Anyway, a study buddy, Sweet Cheeks, is just someone who'd help you get ready for your test."

"Are you volunteering?" Ziva took another sip of wine, her eyes meeting Tony's.

"It's my patriotic duty as an American," Tony said, slapping his right hand over his heart. "Also as your Little Furry Mutt."

"Then I think we should head home," Ziva said, looking seductively at Tony, "because I still have much to learn."

"You do," Tony agreed, licking his teeth with his tongue. "And we'll start tonight with a review of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Especially that last part."


	32. There's The Girl

Title: There's The Girl  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Tony's flirty ways hurt someone deeply.

**-------------------- There's The Girl ---------------------**

"Redhead at two o'clock. Look alive, McGoo!"

Tony, who'd been lounging casually in his desk chair, suddenly sat straight up as the attractive woman made her way into the Bullpen. Her shapely figure, accented by her form-fitting business suit, wasn't lost on him. Flashing his most dazzling smile, he stood and greeted her.

"Welcome to NCIS Headquarters. VERY Special Agent Tony DiNozzo at your service, Miss! Can I help you find someone?" Tony raised an eyebrow suggestively at the woman. "Someone... single?" Again, he smiled brightly. The woman blushed and returned his suggestive grin.

"Well, Agent DiNozzo..." she began, taking pains to lean on Tony's desk in order to face him more closely, "... I am looking. For someone."

"Single?" Tony prodded, leaning in towards the woman. She licked her lips.

"VERY single," she answered breathily. Tony had to catch his breath.

"Good news," Tony replied in a low tone. "In addition to being a VERY Special Agent, it just so happens that I'm also VERY..."

Just then, Ziva emerged from the elevator. Seeing Tony flirting with the redhead, she stopped for a minute, looked at Tony as if she didn't understand what he was doing -- or why he was doing it, quickly dropped her eyes and slowly turned, making her way towards the stairwell. Pushing the door open, she was gone almost as soon as she'd appeared. The redhead watched Ziva exit, folded her arms and made a little "Hmmph" sound. She wasn't sure what had just happened.

But Tony was.

He'd been up to his old tricks -- flirting shamelessly with a pretty woman who wasn't his girlfriend. And his girlfriend -- Ziva -- had seen it all.

"I'm very _not_ single," Tony told the redhead, his smile vanished. "Special Agent McGee can help you find whoever you're looking for, Miss." Nodding in Tim's direction, Tony said quietly, "If you'll excuse me, there's a... little matter I need to take care of now." With that, he headed to the elevator.

"Am I missing something?" the redhead asked Tim.

"No," Tim lied politely, "but _he_ might be -- soon."

Tony knew where Ziva likely had rushed off to and he wasn't looking forward to the reception he'd get in Abby's Lab. As it turned out, he got no reception there. Abby had locked down the lab to anyone named "Mister Flirty-Pants DiNozzo" for the rest of the day, according to the large note taped to the facility's doors. Sighing, Tony knew that trying to apologize to Ziva right away would be of no use. He'd have to wait this one out.

_Why do I DO this? WHY?_ Tony thought. _You IDIOT! You've GOT a hot girlfriend._

After a short time spent brooding in the NCIS break room, Tony returned to the Bullpen where McGee sat working at his computer.

"Go on and say it, Probie," Tony said miserably. "Tell me what a jerk I am. TELL me how I don't deserve Ziva. Don't hold back. I can take it."

"Actually, Tony," Tim answered evenly, "I've got nothing to say on the subject." He continued his work.

Tony flopped down in his chair behind his desk, feeling as low as he'd ever felt in his life. Tim wasn't even going to take a free shot at him on this one.

_I've really screwed up this time,_ Tony thought, hiding his head in his hands. _How the hell do I fix this?_


	33. Nothing At All

Title: Nothing At All  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Tony begs Ziva's forgiveness.

**-------------------- Nothing At All ---------------------**

Once he'd found Ziva back at their apartment, Tony had apologized.

Again and again. And again.

He'd begged her forgiveness, told her that the flirting with the redhead had been a mistake — a terrible mistake — and one that he wouldn't repeat. He knew he'd screwed up. He knew he did stupid, STUPID things and that Ziva was really too good for him. But, Tony pleaded, he LOVED her. So much. And he couldn't wait to be HER husband, to just be with HER. That stuff with the girl in the office? He'd been joking around and it got out of hand. Because he'd been so damn DUMB. Hell, yes, he was angry with himself. But there was nobody he loved more than Ziva — and no woman he wanted to be with in any way. He swore it. She had to believe him.

"Ziva..." Tony said, his voice breaking with emotion, "Please... please forgive me. I am... I'm so sorry... It'll never happen again, Ziva, I swear. Please..."

Throughout it all, Ziva had quietly listened, her face impassive. Her brown eyes were set in a blank stare, betraying nothing as she watched Tony plead for another chance.

"I believe you," Ziva said. But there was no emotion in her voice. She rose from where she'd been sitting on the sofa and headed for the bedroom. Tony waited for a moment and then followed her.

Standing in the doorway, Tony watched as Ziva packed her gym bag with some basic clothing items and toiletries. He felt as if a knife had been plunged into his chest. It was hard to breathe.

"Don't leave me," Tony said in a half-whisper, his voice shaky.

Ziva looked over at him from where she continued slowly packing. Her brown eyes looked tired.

"I have to, Tony," she replied, so softly that he could barely hear her.

When she quietly made her way out of the apartment, the front door clicking closed after her, Tony sat alone on the sofa. As darkness enveloped the living room, he silently cursed himself for what he'd done. Finally, after trying so hard for so long to hold them back, the tears came and Tony wept uncontrollably, holding his head in his hands as he sobbed.

Ziva was gone.

And this was exactly, he knew, what he deserved.


	34. If You're Gone

Title: If You're Gone  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: The distance between Tony and Ziva grows. Literally.

**-------------------- If You're Gone ---------------------**

"Conference Room. Now."

Tony, Ziva and McGee stopped their work and started to follow Gibbs to the elevator.

"Not you, McGee," Gibbs said. McGee sat down and began tapping at his computer again. Ziva briskly walked to the elevator and Tony, sighing, trailed her.

Inside the elevator, Gibbs hit the "Stop" button. Turning to Tony and Ziva with a stern look, his speech was short.

"Whatever's goin' on, work it out. _Now._ Or I will."

Then he punched the "Stop" button again and the doors opened. Gibbs stalked out and headed up to Director Vance's office. Ziva quickly made her way back to her desk. Tony wanted to talk to her but felt as if he just didn't know what to say. So he, too, simply sat down at his desk and started back on some paperwork. But he was thinking only of how to make up with Ziva, find a way to reconnect with her.

From the top of the stairs, Director Vance suddenly appeared.

"Ziva," Vance said brusquely. "My office." With a little nod of his head, he indicated that she should come upstairs. Ziva swallowed, took a deep breath, stood and headed to meet with the director. Tony felt worried; he wondered if they were in trouble and he was next on Vance's hit list. Whatever came next, Tony was determined to make sure that Ziva didn't take any sort of fall for their personal troubles — specifically for his stupid actions.

After about an hour, Ziva returned, taking some items from her desk. She then quietly exited without saying a word to either Tony or McGee. Tony rose from his desk and, when Gibbs came downstairs, Tony approached his boss with questions about what had just happened. For once, he wasn't afraid to ask Gibbs point-blank about a meeting in Vance's office.

"Why'd Vance want to see Ziva, Boss?"

Gibbs' ice blue eyes fixed harshly on Tony. But Tony didn't flinch.

"Ask _him_," Gibbs said.

"Okay," Tony replied, clenching his jaw, "I will." With that, he headed up to Vance's office. Gibbs didn't watch him go.

Vance didn't appear surprised when Tony bolted into his office. In fact, he seemed to have been expecting the young agent.

"Please," Vance said wryly, "come in, Agent DiNozzo. Sit down. Put your feet up."

Tony stood before Vance's desk. Crossing his arms, he stared down at Vance, frowning.

"Listen, Director," Tony said in a curt manner, "if Ziva's in any kind of trouble because of our personal relationship, I'd just like to say that..."

"Before you make a _complete_ ass of yourself, DiNozzo," Vance broke in, "let me assure you that I've never had any issues with you and Ziva having a personal relationship outside the office."

Tony was taken aback. Now he truly wasn't sure what, if anything, he should say.

"In fact, I don't plan on having any issues with the two of you seeing each other — now or in the future," Vance said. "Because Agent David has accepted a transfer to the Rota office effective immediately."

"Rota?" Tony said, stunned. "That's in Spain."

"And you see why I have no problem with you and Ziva seeing one another," Vance replied.


	35. I Just Really Miss You

Title: I Just Really Miss You  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Ziva's in Spain and Tony's bitter. Plus lonely.

**-------------------- I Just Really Miss You ---------------------**

In the first few weeks after Ziva had left, Tony tried convincing himself that she wasn't really all the way over in Spain. She was just temporarily "on assignment," he'd tell himself; none of this was permanent. Soon she'd return to the D.C. NCIS office, he'd find a way to make everything right with her and they'd go back to their lives together. The engagement was still on, right? Ziva hadn't given him back his ring.

But now, three months later, things were markedly different.

Tony hadn't heard from Ziva. Not one word.

No calls. No emails. No texts. Nothing.

Initially, the lack of contact had disturbed Tony, worried him. It wasn't like Ziva not to talk with him at all. Yes, she'd been upset with him before leaving but they'd still talked. Mostly about work. There had been, however, that one night Tony showed up at Abby's practically begging to see Ziva. It was the night before she left for Rota. He had to speak with her, he told a defensive Abby. Ziva had agreed.

_"Why?" Tony had asked Ziva. "Why are you doing this? Are you that mad at me? That you have to go all the way to Spain to let me know what a huge mistake I made? Dammit, Ziva, I know. I KNOW!" _

_The thought of her leaving was eating away at him. He missed her terribly and she'd only been across town at Abby's. Now she'd be an ocean away and Tony didn't know if he could handle it._

_"This has nothing to do with what has happened between US, Tony." Ziva had told him. "Director Vance needs me for... a mission. That mission is in Rota. Tony, I have to do this. And I am sorry you do not understand. But I am doing what is best. For everyone."_

_"Leaving me, huh? That's what's best? For everyone? The HELL with that!" Tony had snapped, unable to control his temper. He was losing his soulmate, the woman he wanted to spend his life with — and all over a stupid mistake on his part. He felt as if he'd never get Ziva back, figure out how to convince her that his love for her was true and he was ready for a commitment, ready to be her husband._

_"I love you, Tony," Ziva said, fighting back tears. "That has not changed. It never will." With that, she kissed him tenderly. The contact took Tony's breath away._

_"Ziva..." Tony replied, his voice husky, "Don't go. Please... Please don't go."_

_"I must," Ziva answered softly, stroking Tony's cheek. "I gave my word."_

_With that, she gently closed the door behind her. Tony pressed his forehead against the wood, running his palm along its grain. The shock of the unexpected kiss left Tony's body feeling tense. He needed more time with Ziva. But he wouldn't get it, he knew. _

_Aching for Ziva, Tony softly pressed his fist against the door before he forced himself to walk away._

"Still nothing from Ziva?" Tim, who was by now used to seeing Tony check his cellphone every half-hour, still worried about his friend. And he was concerned that Ziva hadn't contacted anyone at NCIS. Not like Ziva, Tim thought.

"Nope," Tony replied nonchalantly, flipping his phone shut as if he'd been doing anything but seeing if Ziva had called. "Nada. Nein. Nyet. Not that I care, McMOM." He frowned, studying the phone. "Been three months," Tony sniffed arrogantly. "Time for this DiNozzo to move on to greener pastures, Probie." He raised an eyebrow Tim's way. "How's about we flash some badge over at the Capital Club tonight? D.C. Dish dot-com says that's where all the hottest law intern chicks get their party on and, once the evening's over, their... briefs off. Heh heh heh..."

Tim shot Tony a withering look.

"Aren't you still engaged? Ziva didn't send the ring back, did she?" He studied Tony closely. "Did she?"

Tony snarled. Tim was starting to make him angry with all the Ziva talk. He'd been trying to forget her — unsuccessfully.

"Forget it, McNosy!" Tony snapped, "I'll just go WITHOUT a wingman!"

"C'mon, Tony..." Tim began. But Tony ignored him, hastily rising from his desk and gathering his gear so he could leave quickly. "TONY!" Tim called after his friend. Tony didn't respond.

_This is NOT going to be good,_ Tim thought to himself, sighing as he watched the silver elevator doors close behind Tony. _Ziva, why don't you CALL?_

At the Capital Club, Tony's green eyes fixed on a pair of young, attractive law interns just down the bar from him. They smiled at him, giving him come-hither looks. But he just looked away, suddenly ashamed of himself.

_What the hell am I doing here?_ Tony thought. His mind was filled with thoughts of Ziva, how much he missed her, how desperately he wanted to hear from her, why she wasn't returning his messages.

The sensation of his cellphone vibrating in his pocket jolted him back to the reality around him. He quickly placed the phone to his ear, not even bothering to look at the display to see who was calling.

"Ziva?" Tony said, his voice trembling, heart pounding.

"Tony," the voice on the other end replied. "We need to talk."


	36. Not Afraid

Title: Not Afraid  
Author: rekkidbraka  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.  
Category: Romance  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Tony wants to head off after Ziva.

**

* * *

**

"Who is this?" Tony asked. The voice on the other end of the line sounded familiar but he didn't instantly recognize it.

"Chad," the man answered. "Chad Dunham, Tony. I've got some news about Ziva."

"Oh, yeah," Tony said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "_Her._ How is _Agent David?_"

"Missing," Chad replied.

* * *

"Boss, you _gotta_ let me go to Rota," Tony pleaded as Gibbs stared back at him, stonefaced. "Ziva's MISSING. She'd have never taken that damn assignment if I hadn't..." He paused, thinking of how Ziva's disappearance was his fault. "She's gone because of ME, Boss. Please let me make this right. _Please._"

Gibbs' icy blue eyes searched Tony's face but betrayed nothing.

"Can't spare ya to go clean up a mess ya never shoulda started makin' in the FIRST place, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped.

He was upset at the news of Ziva going missing and frankly tired of Tony's incessant moaning about how her predicament was all due to his "mistake." Gibbs wanted things to run smoothly in his unit; Tony and Ziva's relationship and recent engagement had complicated everything from the time it began. Now what Gibbs had prayed would never happen had come about. His agents' personal problems had spilled over into their work lives. A few years ago, he'd have never allowed them to start dating and now? Here they were. It was a headache for everyone involved and Ziva was paying the worst price of all.

"DAMMIT, Boss!" Tony yelled, slamming his fist down onto Gibbs' desk. "I'm GOING! You don't LIKE it? FIRE ME!"

With that, Tony stalked over to his own desk, picked up his gear and hurried out of the Bullpen area without another word or look back at Gibbs. As the metallic elevator doors silently closed on his young protégé, Gibbs sighed and shook his head.

Soon, he knew, he'd be going to Spain himself. To rescue DiNozzo from whatever jam he'd gotten himself into — after he'd found Ziva.

* * *

**Rota, Spain**

Once again, Special Agent Chad Dunham had assumed a new look. This time, with his hair cropped short and his beard completely shaven, Tony didn't recognize him when Dunham arrived to greet him at the airport.

"What the hell happened to your face... _Chad?_" Tony joked, taking a little shot at the man he'd considered his rival for Ziva's affections. "And by 'happened to,' I mean I can SEE it." Tony flashed Chad a teasing grin. Chad glared back at him.

"Yeah, I'd forgotten 'bout that little sense of humor of yours, DiNozzo," Chad drawled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "And by 'little,' I mean..." Without saying another word, Chad smacked Tony upside the back of the head. Tony grimaced, then snarled angrily.

"This is NOT gonna be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Tony hissed as the two made their way to the taxi stand.


	37. The Other Woman

Title: The Other Woman

Author: rekkidbraka

Rating: T

Pairings: Tony D. and Ziva D.

Category: Romance

Disclaimer: No infringement intended.

Spoilers: None

Summary: Tony and Chad search for Ziva, finding someone else.

**

* * *

**

**Rota, Spain**

"Slap the back of my head again just ONE more time and I'll ..." Tony began, just as he felt Chad Dunham's palm graze the back of his head. Startled (again), Tony needed a second to get himself together.

"You'll SHUT UP for five seconds, DiNozzo?"

Chad, like Gibbs back home, was tired of Tony's incessant chatter — about movies, about the differences between Spain and America that he'd noted, about the food, about Ziva. Always about Ziva. Dunham understood that Tony was frantic to find his fianceé but did he have to talk ALL the time? He'd never worked with anyone who seemingly couldn't keep any of his or her thoughts to themselves.

_God, please let us find Ziva fast,_ Chad silently prayed. _Before DiNozzo's mouth gets going again and..._

"When Gibbs slaps me, he slaps me with _love_," Tony muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "But you, _you_ slap me with hate. Unbridled hate. _Anger_, even. The anger of a man who's..."

_Damn... Too late,_ Chad sighed to himself.

* * *

"And Ziva never told you where she was going? Not ONE word?" Tony pressed. Chad should know more than he did, Tony thought. After all, Ziva had been working with him, right?

"For the 842nd time," Chad drawled, yawning, "Ziva didn't say a DAMN THING ABOUT WHERE SHE WAS GOIN', YOU HEAR ME?"

"Loud and clear," Tony replied, snarling. "Emphasis on the 'loud' part." He sipped at his coffee while he and Chad sat in the streetside patio area of an outdoor café. "Can't believe she'd just head off like that — not checking in, not mentioning her plans, not..."

"I thought I recognized that voice," a woman said from behind where Tony and Chad sat. Her voice was biting, sarcastic and all too familiar to Tony. Hearing it, he cringed, unable to turn and face the speaker. "The only question is, is it the voice of Tony DiNARDO or Tony DiNOZZO? Or do YOU even know anymore, Tony?"

Chad squinted, turning back to see who was insulting his friend. He found a young woman, not unattractive but at this moment not appealing, glaring back at him. With a little shiver of chill running down his spine, Chad quickly turned away again and gulped down some coffee.

"Hello, Jeanne," Tony finally said softly, before forcing himself to face his ex-girlfriend.

"Let me guess," Jeanne said caustically, a harsh smirk on her face, "you're here to seduce some woman into giving you important information? Or to get HER father killed? What is it this time, hmmm? And who are YOU this time? A film professor? Or just the liar that you always have been?"

"I'll leave you two alone for a minute," Chad drawled, hastily heading towards the inside of the café to get a coffee refill. "It's obvious y'all have some catchin' up to do."

Tony sighed heavily, fumbling with his coffee spoon as Jeanne continued laying into him. He only listened, saying nothing.

"I thought — no, I _prayed_ — that I'd NEVER see you again because I knew if I did, I couldn't STOP myself from telling you how much I HATE you for what you did to me... for what you did to my _father_," Jeanne hissed. "You and that BITCH you worked for... You..."

"THAT will do! YOU will not insult Tony OR Jenny AGAIN!"

Now another woman's voice cut across Jeanne's, effectively ending her invective. Jeanne whirled around, ready to rage at whomever was daring to speak to her this way.

Tony recognized this voice, too, and his heart pounded, hearing it. He leapt out of his seat and turned to see Ziva, looking tan, rested and ready to do battle, staring down Jeanne. Too stunned to move or speak, Tony could only try catching his breath.

"Oh, I see how it is now," Jeanne mocked, her eyes darting from Tony to Ziva and back to Tony. "Partners in the truest sense of the word? Well, Tony, at least she's convenient for you. No having to find a hospital parking space, right? You're just a few desks away."

Now Ziva had absolutely heard enough. She stepped towards Jeanne, who quickly moved away. Tony, still in shock, stood gaping. By now, Chad had returned and was enjoying the little scene from the doorway of the café.

"IF you do not wish to end up on one of your own operating tables, Doctor, I suggest you continue on your way," Ziva said primly. But Chad and the shellshocked Tony both knew the little smile playing at her lips betrayed the damage she was capable of doing. "I think we would both wish to avoid a... scene... here in the plaza?"

"You go to _hell_," Jeanne hissed, her voice dripping with hatred for Ziva. Turning to Tony, she added, "You're _dead_ to me." Then Jeanne cast a cold glance at Chad and at last turned, making her exit. Ziva folded her arms, narrowing her brown eyes as she watched Jeanne leave.

"DAMN, girl, you were gonna kick her ASS!" Chad whooped, laughing as he joined Ziva on the café patio.

"No," Ziva said tiredly. "I was not." Turning her attention to Tony, Ziva waved her hand in front of his face. He just stared blankly back at her. "Hello?" Ziva said, peering into his eyes for signs of life. "Tony? The Earth is calling Tony?"

"I got this, Ziva," Chad drawled. With a quick flick of his wrist, he popped Tony on the back of the head and, like a record that had skipped and restarted again, Tony immediately began chattering away.

"SWEET CHEEKS!" Tony cried.

"Hey, man," Chad teased, raising an eyebrow at his friend, "we ain't THAT close."


End file.
